


Evermore

by Cheylouwho



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Family Loss, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of pregnancy if that bothers you, Nothing but angst, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a lotta flashback scenes, craig cant handle loss, exploring tweeks canon abuse, learning to heal, mentions of blood and mild self harm, meth fucks you up man, token and nichole are a couple, trans!butters (marjorine)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheylouwho/pseuds/Cheylouwho
Summary: Tweek Tweak could have easily come in and out of this world without anyone knowing he was even there. Unfortunately for Craig, the bonds created during those few short years weren’t going to break so easily.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bounced around this idea with my sp analysis discord (shout out to yall) after a great conversation about Tweek's character and the circumstances we're aware of in canon. This story is nothing but angst, I apologize for the hurt

The overcast sky wasn’t helping set the mood for the already shitty day that was unfolding.

Craig Tucker’s forehead pressed against the glass of the car’s passenger-side window, letting the dull rumble of the road numb his brain. He didn’t want to think about where he was going or why he was wearing a suit with a tie nearly tight enough to be a noose. His fingers played absentmindedly with the knot as his eyes followed raindrops streaming down the glass. Some of them would last awhile, but they’d always inevitably vanish with the wind.

“Did they say anything about coming?”

He groaned as he forced his attention back to the woman in the driver’s seat, sitting up just enough to make eye contact with her. Laura almost never wore black, but here she was, wearing her best dress and set of equally choking pearls around her neck.

“I didn’t hear jack shit,” he forced himself to say, the fingers on his left hand digging painfully against the right. It was bad enough Tricia and his father were out of state for one of his sister’s high school band performances, but it wasn’t like something of this nature could be planned.

No, funerals were always unexpected.

Laura just pursed her lips as she continued to stare at the road, the radio turned down lower than normal. They’d hardly spoken the whole car ride, leaving mostly silence and the _squeak squeak squeak_ of old windshield wipers battling the rain. Craig had never been a talkative person, but there was nothing to be said on the matter.

“Not like I want them to be there, anyway,” he finally muttered, shifting just enough to place his head against the glass again.

“Well,” Laura continued cautiously, eyes fluttering a few times in thought. Craig didn’t have to look at her to know she was walking on eggshells for him. “We are talking about their son, honey.”

Craig shifted further away, doing his best to ignore her. He could acknowledge the Tweaks were probably not going to show up, but there was no way he was talking about _him_ right now. Not in the car with his mother on the way to what was probably going to be the worst day of his life. “I just wanna get through the day, okay?” he hissed, arms crossing protectively against his chest, shoulders tense. He was going to go to the church, ghost his way through the procession and then hurry home to cry in the comfort of his own company, and that was that.

“That’s fine,” Laura told him, a slight waver in her voice as she hit the blinker. The car turned left down a more rural road, slowing down as they pulled into the parking lot. There were a handful of cars already present, but none of them belonged to Richard and Hellen Tweak.

Craig let out a small sigh as the car parked, forcing himself to sit up and undo the belt. It clacked against the side door as he stared at the raindrops collecting on the windshield, listening absentmindedly to his mother grumbling about the goddamn luck of it all while she dug for her umbrella. There was a click of her door, and Craig quietly followed suit. He didn’t care if he got wet, so he didn’t bother waiting for her to come around and let him slip under the appropriately black umbrella with her.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, voice almost childish as he let her pull him under with her anyway. He could have easily driven alone- he’d had his license for nearly six years now- but at the same time, he preferred her company.

Black umbrella. Black sky. Black roof. Black suit. Black, black, black.

“He’d have liked this to be more exciting,” Craig said, rolling his eyes as they stepped onto the porch and under the awning. Laura shook out her umbrella and propped it neatly beside the collection that was already forming. Despite his poor mood, he still waited for her, holding open the door so she could enter the depressing scene unfolding inside.

Rows of black pews were filled with smatterings of people in groups of twos or threes, mostly childhood friends or people who frequented the coffee shop while Tweek had worked there as a child. He slowly scanned the room before forcing himself to look at the far end, right in the middle.

There at the end of the ugly, carpeted aisle lay the casket. It was closed, as Craig had requested. The director had tried to talk him into an open-view wake, but he’d protested firmly against it.

There was no way in hell he’d let people gawk at the shell of what used to be the body of Tweek Tweak.

“Hey Craig,” a voice said softly beside him, a hand on his shoulder pulling him away from the terrible sight. It wasn’t until he looked at the face the voice belonged to that he made the connection of who it was. Clyde was smiling sympathetically, Token standing just to the left of him.

“Hey,” Craig said back, mimicking the softness. Clyde was always obnoxious and over the top. It was almost alarming at how calm he was being. “Glad you guys could make it.”

“Of course,” Token said, his fingers fidgeting with his tie. There hadn’t been much conversation between Craig and his former friend group since high school, and this was certainly awkward for all three of them. Between the hospital visits and the therapy and the rehab, there just hadn’t been any time for Craig to meet up. “Jimmy will probably be here pretty soon. I hear he’s driving up with his girlfriend.”

“What’s her name again?” Craig asked, trying not to look too uninterested in the small talk.

“Beats me.”

“Oh. I don’t know either.” _Great talking to you too._ “I guess we’ll find out when he gets here.” Craig didn’t mean to be so rude as he turned his back on them, wandering up the aisle where his mother had sat. He wondered if any of the other guys from school would show up. He highly doubted anyone would give enough of a shit, but there was always the possibility. It was a small town. Word got out easily.

“Clyde and Token came, that’s nice,” Laura said as positively as possible, scooting over a bit so Craig could sit comfortably beside her.

“I haven’t seen them in like, a year probably,” Craig admitted. “I didn’t think they would.”

“Well, the three of you were always pretty tight, I don’t see why not.”

Craig bit at his lip, trying everything possible to avoid looking at the casket directly in front of him. “Well, that was before all of _this_ happened.” He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Ten more minutes until they were starting and the deceased’s parents hadn’t even bothered to arrive. “Mother fuckers.”

“Excuse me?” Laura asked, giving him a look.

“Nothing, was talking to myself,” he corrected quickly, tucking his phone back away. He couldn’t help stealing a glance at the double doors behind him, inconspicuously surveying the small crowd that had gathered for the unfortunate event. “Jesus, is that Kyle Broflovski?” he muttered, glancing back at his mom.

Laura was a lot more obvious with her survey of the room as she lifted herself up to peek over her shoulder. “The Broflovski boy is here?”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Craig sat back down, crossing his arms. “Jeez, even Kyle had the decency to show up.” In tenth grade, Kyle and Tweek had gotten in such a big fight they’d never spoken since. If Kyle could come to pay his respects, then there was no excuse.

Craig settled into his seat again, eyes drifting closed until the voice of the funeral director brought him back to reality just briefly enough to register that yes, this was really happening. As soon as it formally began his brain went out of focus again, staring at a particularly weird bit of grain in the wooden stage the director was standing on. He picked at his nails, pulled at his tie, anything to get by.

_Just make it through. Just make it through. It’s almost over._

He didn’t know how much time had passed until the director was speaking to him, causing him to blink back to life. “Excuse me?” he muttered, dazed.

“Would you like to say a few words on behalf of the deceased, Mr. Tucker?” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah,” Craig said, legs feeling like gelatin as he forced himself off the bench. It took a moment to regain his balance as he stepped carefully up onto the stage towards the podium beside the casket. With shaking fingers he gripped it, trying to steady himself before looking up at the gathering of people. He hadn’t planned a single thing to say; in fact, the thought of speaking had made him vomit at least twice the night before. He’d always hated public speaking, but the topic didn’t help. His eyes scanned the crowd for a moment before inhaling sharply, eyebrows rising in disbelief.

Some point during the sermon when he wasn’t paying attention, the fucking bastards had slipped into one of the back rows. Yes, he’d invited them. Yes, he’d been upset when he thought they would be no-show. But somehow, seeing them right there at the funeral made him want to scream. Richard had that stupid, pleasant smile across his lips like he always did, Hellen sitting so quiet and still beside him.

“Craig, honey,” Laura said softly from the front row, “you okay?”

Craig swallowed thickly, trying to push the bubbling anger in his chest back down before it escaped his throat in either the form of shouting or even more nausea. He forced his eyes away from them to focus on something else, anything else. He settled on his mother, sitting so quietly, trying her best to support him despite his inability to strike proper conversation with her all day. She’d always been patient with him.

“Um… thanks for coming,” he finally said, his voice nearly cracking at the simple sentence. He should have written something down last night; it would make this whole ordeal a bit simpler. His mother nodded encouragingly, though, so he pressed on. “I’m glad to see so many of you come and honor Tweek in his untimely…um. Yeah.” He didn’t want to say the word. “You know. I think he can rest easy knowing a lot of people cared about him. I mean, nobody ever showed up to the hospital, but you know… it’s the thought that counts?” He laughed nervously, feeling the tension in the room only build. God that was not an appropriate comment. Why were words so difficult for him?

The audience just stared blankly back from their sea of black clothing.

Craig took another deep breath. “Anyway, I just… the last few years were really rough for him. I thought things were going to get better and the fact of the matter is that we all knew this day was gonna happen sooner or later. Addiction’s not easy. Mental illness isn’t easy. Things weren’t easy but he tried his best anyway and I was really proud of him. So… to be standing here today is really, really fucking hard.” He didn’t even bother censoring himself. “It’s _so_ fucking hard when we were close to as normal as things were gonna get for him.”

Craig bit his lip, forcing himself to stop. He was not going to cry. He’d told himself no matter what happened, he wasn’t going to cry during the service. “So basically, thanks if you loved him and fuck you if you enabled it.” With that he stepped down, embarrassed as he scrambled back to his seat. He couldn’t take the staring eyes any longer, especially the two pairs at the back of the room. The director said a few more words before asking for volunteers to help carry the casket to the hearse and then to the gravesite. Craig immediately stood up, with Token, Clyde and ironically Kyle joining him. Craig knew only four would be enough. There was hardly anything left to be lifted compared to how chunky Tweek had been during childhood.

All four grabbed their respective ends and hoisted up and out the double doors and into the long, black car. The guests picked up their umbrellas and followed along as the rain drizzled down. The car began to make its way up the hill to the spot Craig had chosen and the procession followed in a literal black parade.

“Craig, hey dude,” a voice called. The familiar sound of crutches hitting muddy turf caught his attention as Jimmy hurried beside him, a girl following closely beside. “Sorry I didn’t g-get a chance to say hi at the s…start, me and Angie came l…late.”

Ah, that was her name. Craig was sure it was a different name last time they’d talked. “Nah, it’s fine. You say hi to the guys?”

“Yeah, Clyde b-bitched at me for being late. Not my f…fault I couldn’t find the damn place.” Jimmy shook his head, raindrops flying from his hair like a sprinkler. “Shitty weather for a sh…shitty day, am I right?”

Craig could only give a weak smile, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess so.” Even in their twenties, Jimmy loved to crack jokes. Some things never changed. “Tweek liked the rain though, so…I guess it’s fine. Remember he used to wear that puke-colored rain jacket in middle school when I finally convinced him he needed a fucking coat?”

“That color is f-forever burned into my r…retinas, how could I?”

Craig forced a laugh, trying not to focus on the fact that the hearse had stopped at its destination. “And green rainboots, the ones from his birthday. He wore ‘em until the soles were so worn down they just fell right off, remember that? He loved them.”

“Snow day,” Jimmy commented quietly, stopping in his tracks. “We had that h…huge snowball fight and he fell f-f-face first on the ground.”

There was another awkward laugh before Craig was called away to help with the casket once more. He couldn’t help but remember the rubber boots still sitting in their apartment closet. Tweek had only worn them a handful of times since Christmas.

In fact, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about a lot of untouched things when he got back home.

With a grunt the casket was lowered down onto the earth beside the muddy hole that had been dug for it. The director said they’d take care of it once the procession was over, much to Craig’s relief. He wasn’t sure he could take watching it descend. White roses were passed out among the attendees and Craig watched silently, waiting until the director handed him what he’d asked for. It had been difficult with the rushed preparations, but Craig was glad to see he’d gotten his way. One by one the guests laid their flowers against the casket until only Craig remained.

The sky may have been gray and gloomy and the people around him dressed in black, but the single sunflower between his fingers seemed to light up the whole area as he carried it forward. He kissed the center a bit too dramatically that he anticipated before letting setting it on the top of the pile. It seemed like an appropriate touch; Tweek had always managed to be a splash of color in the grim world that had been crafted for him since the moment he was born. With that, the funeral was over, and the guests were free to mingle as they pleased before heading back to their cars to inevitably forget it even took place. With a sigh, Craig stepped back, just staring at the scene unfolding until another hand against his shoulder caused him to jump.

“Thank you for taking care of the arrangements, son,” Richard Tweak said, giving that same fake smile. Hellen stood beside him, just as quietly as she always did.

Craig quickly swatted his hand away, stepping back. “Not like you were going to do it,” he muttered defensively. “I’m surprised you even showed up.”

“Now, don’t be like that, son,” Richard said in his impossibly smooth voice, shaking his head. “Why wouldn’t we come to our own son’s funeral?”

Craig just glared for a moment, curling and uncurling his fingers in an attempt to keep himself calm. The rain dripped from his hair down the sides of his face, making him shiver. Richard seemed to pull his wife closer to his side, quirking an eyebrow as if to dare Craig to answer him.

“I don’t have time for this,” Craig finally muttered, twisting uncomfortably to walk away and find his mother.

“Ah, come on, don’t be like that,” Richard nearly begged, stepping closer and catching him by the arm. “You’re just as much family to us as our son, you know that.”

Craig froze in his tracks, grimacing as he felt his shoulders tense. “I suggest you get your hand off of me,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “Today is not the day to be talking about this.” The last thing he had wanted was deal with Richard or his porcelain doll of a wife. He sometimes wondered if just one touch would cause her to shatter and cease to exist; part of him desperately wanted to test that theory and erase her passive nature from the face of the planet.

“Craig,” Richard said again, trying to draw his attention. The hand refused to leave his arm. “Is that really how you want to treat us after our son has died?”

That was _it._

“Fuck you!” Craig yanked his arm free, winding up for a punch before someone else’s arms were grabbing him, trying to de-escalate the situation before it got any worse. He struggled against the grip the best he could, the tears he’d dreaded beginning to spring to his eyes as Tweek’s parents just looked on at him.

Richard almost looked amused by his outburst.

Craig let out a shaking sob. “It’s _your_ fault he’s dead in the first place!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your reviews, they really do inspire me and make me feel really really happy <3333333333333 glad we can all cry together over this ;u;

_Craig gave a small shiver as he trudged up the creaking porch, enjoying the imprints his new boots made on the newly fallen snow. With a childish giggle he kicked at it until he could see the wood hiding below, ringing the doorbell. It took him a moment as his new mittens dwarfed his small hands, but he managed, rocking back and forth in anticipation. The door opened just enough for small eyes to peep at him before it was thrown open all the way._

_“Hi Tweek,” Craig said, grabbing his hat by the flaps and pulling it a bit lower over his forehead. “You wanna play?”_

_The other boy let out a shy grin, nodding. “I’ll get my shoes, be right back!” With that, the door slammed shut again, leaving Craig standing alone in the snow. If it had been Clyde, or even Stan Marsh (who he didn’t even like that much), he’d probably have been invited in out of the cold. Tweek never did._

_Today, however, it seemed like someone in the house had taken notice of the little boy standing patiently by the front door. Craig could hear a few exchanges of voices before the door was opened by none other than Tweek’s father, giving his overly friendly smile. Tweek stood behind him, eyes wide, body tense._

_“Oh, hello Craig,” Richard said, drawing out the boy’s name just a bit too long for comfort. “Our favorite little homosexual…when did you get here?”_

_There was an awkward pause as Craig blushed in embarrassment, looking the other direction. They’d been together for almost a year by that point, but Richard’s comments never got any easier to listen to. “Two minutes ago, sir,” he said bluntly, rocking back and forth again. “Tweek’s comin’ out to play with me and Clyde.” He’d lost another tooth that week near the back of his mouth, and his tongue swirled idly in the gap as the grown man stared him down._

_“Ah, I see,” Richard continued, nodding thoughtfully. Tweek hadn’t moved an inch. “Would you like to come in?”_

_Almost immediately, the little blond boy began to shake his head, giving Craig a look that just begged for him to decline. His wild hair went every which way. Craig always thought of him like a cat; when Tweek was upset, his mane stood on end. “I’LL BE FAST,” Tweek shrieked before darting the other direction._

_“N-no thank you,” Craig said immediately after, taking a step back. “He said he’ll be fast, see? I can wait. I like the snow so it’s okay.” He didn’t trust Mr. Tweak enough to make awkward chit-chat in the foyer anyway. “You can close the door now?”_

_Richard narrowed his eyes for a moment before doing as Craig asked, shutting the door. There was a minute of silence as Craig just listened to the falling snow, staring at the brown door with the chipped paint until Tweek suddenly emerged again. He came stumbling out into the snow, wearing nothing but his regular button up, a pair of jeans and a set of mittens that were clearly too small. He was clutching a thermos to his chest as his father called for him to be back by four with the daily delivery pickup._

_“Tweek, where’s your coat?”_

_“Can’t find it,” Tweek muttered, fumbling to shut the door._

_“What’d you mean?” Craig asked, frowning. He tended to pass hand-me-downs to his boyfriend because he never seemed to have any of his own. “I just gave it to you.”_

_“Yeah but…I just can’t find it.” Tweek’s too small glove met Craig’s too big, and then began their decent from the porch.  “Mom put it in the wash, maybe.”_

_“Well, you should have looked harder,” Craig said, voice full of concern. “I gave you it for a reason, you know. Aren’t you cold?”_

_Tweek bit at his lip. “Nah. I never get that cold.” He was right; during sleepovers, Tweek was always like a little space heater. He was chubby and warm and wonderful at hugging. Clyde would complain that he stole his title._

_“Okay, I guess.” Craig shrugged his shoulders, leaving at that. He just hoped Tweek would find the coat. This was the third one he’d lost in a month. “Can’t you ditch the thermos though?”_

_Tweek gave an odd look. “I don’t think so… dad said I had to take it, and I don’t wanna make dad upset.”_

_“Is it coffee?”_

_“Yeah? What else?”_

_Craig shot him a glance. “I thought you said you didn’t wanna drink it anymore.”_

_“I don’t,” Tweek corrected stubbornly. “But I have to. If I don’t, I get all jittery.”_

_“You’re always jittery anyway,” Craig said._

_“Well, more then.” Tweek let it swing back and forth between his fingers as they walked down the street._

_Craig bit at his lip again, blinking the snowflakes out of his long eyelashes. “You gotta promise then that you’re gonna try more.”_

_Tweek flashed a sweet little smile at him, his hair framing his face like a halo. “Okay, I promise.”_

 

* * *

 

It had taken Clyde and some stranger to pull Craig away long enough to prevent the emanating fight. Now Craig was back in the car alongside his mother, head against the window again as he watched the church get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

“I didn’t want to say it,” Laura started, “but that was _really_ uncalled for.”

“Me?” Craig asked, sitting up a bit. “Or Richard?”

“Both of you.” Laura hit her blinker and turned back onto the main road, rolling her eyes. “It’s a damn funeral, for god’s sake, I know you two don’t get along but the least you could have done was put aside your differences. If not for _you,_ honey, for Tweek’s sake.”

“Tweek would have wanted me to punch his dad in the face, though,” Craig muttered, “so there.”

Laura let out a sigh through her nose, clearly annoyed. The rest of the ride continued in silence as Craig continued to pick at his tie, having quiet raindrop races on the window. Most of them would blow away before they even reached the bottom of the glass, though, so there was hardly ever a winner. The freeway took them back into South Park, the crooked sign with the population number of 2080 greeting them. With Tweek gone, it should have read 2079.

Craig hated that thoughts like those were the first to come to his logical mind.

Suddenly the car was coming to a stop just outside of an old apartment building, and Laura popped the lock on the door. “There you go. Call me if you need anything?” she asked, giving Craig one more glance as he pushed the passenger side door open.

“Yeah,” he said softly, looking back for a moment before giving her a small smile. He didn’t want his mother to worry about him. She was always worried enough. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for driving me,” he said for the second time that day before shutting the door and watching her make a U-turn back towards the more residential part of town.

With that, Craig Tucker was alone.

He let out a sigh as the rain continued to pour, trudging into the building’s lobby and shaking his nice shoes off as soon as he was inside.

“Hey, Craig,” the doorman said from his post, “that rain’s really comin’ down, isn’t it? At least you’ve got free dry-cleaning for that suit, huh?”

Craig didn’t have the energy to properly respond. Instead he gave a small nod before making his way to the stairs, quickly climbing up. All he wanted was to get back to the apartment and take off his wet clothes and lie down on his bed forever and ever. Part of him considered taking the elevator, but Tweek had always been too afraid of it. Stairs were the usual; stairs were routine. Craig didn’t like to break routine. He didn’t like _change._

This situation was nothing _but_ change.

 He hurried to the third floor and down the hall, keys in hand before practically kicking down the door in frustration when the lock got stuck. As soon as it was open he tossed his jacket onto the floor, already unbuttoning the collared shirt before he shut it. Stupid clothes, stupid squeaky door, stupid empty house. He’d always call out something cheesy when he’d entered, and Tweek would usually yell something back, but there was no point now.

Craig kicked aside the button-up as it dropped to the floor, discarding everything until he was just in his boxers, phone in hand. Exhausted, he trudged to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and curling under the soft sheets. He was careful to only take up his own side, just in case Tweek would come walking through that door and lay next to him. Tweek hated when he was a space hog.

His eyes drifted shut, unable to help his imagination running away from him. Maybe imaginary Tweek would just be coming home from work. In reality the blond hadn’t held a steady job in at least two years, but that one time when he was working at the library had made him really happy. He liked sorting things and he liked quiet, so it had worked out well enough until he was fired again for missing so many days. It wasn’t his fault though; the hospital was worried about discharging him too quickly after he’d collapsed in the middle of the living room. Sure, he’d been struggling to keep food down, but Craig had never thought it was _that_ bad.

He shook the uncomfortable memories from his head, squeezing his eyes tighter. No, this was going to be a happy fantasy. Tweek would come through the door and echo Craig’s ridiculous _“honey I’m home”_ only to flop on the bed beside him and hold him close. _“How was your day?”_ he’d ask.

“Pretty fucking shitty,” Craig answered out loud, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

 _“What happened?”_ imaginary Tweek asked him.

“Your funeral was stupid and boring and terrible,” he stated, feeling his breath catch. He let the feeling of vulnerability sweep over him as he began to cry, finally feeling safe enough to sob. The funeral was over; there was no turning back now. Reality had hit him harder than a cinderblock. There was no denying that Tweek was not coming back, no matter how many times he daydreamed about it. Craig had seen the casket- he’d carried it to the gravesite- and tomorrow he’d probably go visit again to find him tucked safely beneath the earth with a heavy stone marking where the 21 year old boy lay. The thought only made Craig cry harder. God, it was way too soon. He’d hoped that if it was going to happen, they’d have been much older.

The buzzing of his phone pulled Craig back to reality, forcing him to wipe away a few stray tears before opening his messenger.

_Tricia: heard the funeral was shitty i hope youre okay  
Tricia: wish i could have been there did you put a flower down 4 me_

Craig took a shaking breath, trying to figure out the best way to respond. His sister had sobbed so hard when he told her the news, and even harder when she found out her band field trip was the same weekend as the funeral. Craig was a bit glad though that she hadn’t come. He wasn’t sure if he would have held it together as well as he did if he’d seen her upset. Tricia, unlike Craig, had never learned how to bottle her emotions.

 _Craig: yeah it fuckin sucked im p sure you would have been miserable so its fine_  
_Craig: trip going good tho?_  
 _Tricia: yea but i miss you_  
 _Craig: youll see me when you get home k_  
 _Craig: ill take you up to the church we can see him together_  
 _Tricia: thanks <3333333_

Craig laid his phone flat on the bed again. Tweek had always adored Tricia as much as Craig did, so there was no doubt his passing was affecting her too. He just hoped she’d be able to move on with life quicker than he did.

So far, lying depressed in bed with nothing but boxers on was really not a step in the right direction.

The phone buzzed for a second time and Craig picked it up. It was no longer his sister’s messages, however.

_Ken: sorry couldnt make it to the funeral mike made me pick up n extra shift 2 cover for u  
Ken: you doing ok though???????_

Goddammit.

Out of all the people Craig had managed to stay in touch with since high school, he found it weird that it was Kenny. It was mostly because they happened to work in the same mechanic shop, but Craig had only really become good friends with him after they’d graduated. It hadn’t been either of their first career choices, but Kenny needed to take care of Karen and Craig needed to pay hospital bills, so it helped them get by.

_Craig: srry about that i just really couldnt come in ya know_

God, that sounded stupid.

 _Craig: nvm you get what i mean_  
_Craig: thanks for picking it up tho youre greaaaat_  
 _Ken: youre not answering my question???? u good or do you need some Moral Support_  
 _Craig: how do you think im doing, fucker_  
 _Ken: there there pat pat_  
 _Ken: hows that_

Craig was about to turn off his phone and just go to sleep when Kenny sent one last message that caught his attention.

_Ken: you wanna meet at skeeters tho tonight? getting out of the house is good for u. if you don’t youre gonna end up in bed forever_

Kenny had no right to read him like that, but here he was.

_Craig: you know i dont drink and you know you dont need that shit  
Ken: you dont have to have anything its just a meeting place_

Craig weighed his options. Weather he wanted to admit it or not, Kenny was right. There was no point hiding in his bed all day and letting it get to him. Maybe going out would help clear his head.

_Craig: k fine then ill meet you there at what 6?  
Ken: fine by me_

The clock only read about 3:00, so there was plenty of time for a nap, Craig decided. With that, he closed his eyes, trying his best to block out the shitty world around him.

* * *

 

_Craig had found him curled up in the bathroom, hands in his hair after vomiting up what little he’d eaten for lunch. He’d gotten the phone call and rushed home as quickly as possible, but even what little he’d gotten out of him during their brief talk could prepare him for the sight._

_“I don’t know, I just don’t know what even...fucking FUCK!” Tweek slammed his head against the wall as he twitched, his breathing erratic and uncontrollable. His fingers kept going from his scalp to his thighs to his arms, pupils dilated to the size of saucers._

_“Where the hell did you even get it?” Craig was begging, dropping his knees and trying to grasp at Tweek’s wrists. “Honey, you were clean for almost three months, where’d you get it?” There were only three days until Tweek’s twentieth birthday, and Craig was terrified he wasn’t even going to make it until then._

_Tweek let out another shriek, shaking his head wildly, bearing his teeth. “I don’t remember! I don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t remember,” he chanted, rocking against Craig’s hold._

_“Do I gotta take you to the hospital?” Craig asked, trying to make eye contact. Tweek couldn’t seem to focus on any single thing for more than a moment, let alone his boyfriend. He could feel the blond’s heart beating wildly through his grip on his wrists, trying to steady him. “Do we need to go?”_

_“NO, nonono, god PLEASE don’t make me go,” Tweek begged, yanking forcefully against Craig’s touch. “I won’t do it again, I swear to god, I won’t do it again…”_

_“I’m not asking if you’ll do it again or if you want to,” Craig said firmly, trying to keep his own voice from shaking in fear. “I’m asking if you NEED to go.”_

_“I’ll settle,” Tweek said, suddenly thrusting his cheek up against Craig’s shoulder. “I’ll settle down, don’t worry, just don’t take me. Please, please don’t take me, don’t make me go…” His words became muffled as he pressed his mouth into Craig’s shirt._

_Craig just let out a sigh of anxious defeat, holding Tweek’s head close to his chest until he was subdued._

 

* * *

 

By the time Craig woke back up, it was already 5:30. He scrambled for clothing and his wallet before hurrying out the door, knowing full well he was going to be late. It wasn’t his fault he overslept; his sleep schedule had been garbage the last few days and he really did need the rest. The rain had stopped outside, much to his joy, so the trek to his car in the parking lot wasn’t too uncomfortable. It took no time to pull out and head down the road into town to their decided meeting spot. The sky was already dark by the time he pulled up, Kenny’s ugly pickup truck already parked close to the building.

“Dude, you’re late,” was the first thing out of the blond’s mouth when Craig pushed his way through the doors. He was waving him closer from the bar, a drink already in his hand. Eugh.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” Craig slid into the stool next to him, shifting until he was comfortable. “You’re lucky I showed up at all.”

“We both know you need this,” Kenny corrected, patting him on the shoulder. “You want anything? It’s on me.”

“Water,” Craig told him. “And that’s _it._ ”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “Come on dude, just one?” He tilted his glass before taking a sip. “You gotta pour one out for Tweek’s sake.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means,” Craig said, grimacing. “I already told you, I don’t drink. I know how addiction fucks you up, I’m not becoming an alcoholic like _you_.”

“Ouch, Tucker, bringing out the big guns. For real, though, it’ll help you feel better,” Kenny pressed. “Just one?”

Craig wanted to come back with something witty, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Fine, whatever. Make my _one drink_ worth my while, got it?”

“Atta boy,” Kenny laughed before waving down the bartender, asking for another water and whatever it was he was having (Craig really wasn’t paying attention to the specifics of it all). “So I mean… how was it?”

“What?”

“The funeral.” He shifted in his seat, both elbows against the counter now, tongue dragging along his teeth before settling in the gap between the front two.

“Oh,” Craig said. He’d nearly forgotten that it was _today._ Time was passing so oddly. “It was… fine, I guess. It was a fucking funeral, what more do you want?” The bartender set down the drink and the water in front of him.

Kenny took another sip of his own drink, rolling his eyes. “I _know_ that. I’m trying to get the hot goss, dude, who was there?”

Only Kenny would use a stupid term like ‘hot goss’. “Token and Clyde and Jimmy showed up, which was nice. And Jim brought his girlfriend of the month. I already forgot her fuckin’ name.” Craig smirked as he got a laugh out of Kenny.

“What’re they up to?”

Craig shrugged. “Clyde’s still riding his poetry scholarships through community college and Token’s being Token. I heard the other day he knocked up his girlfriend and his parents are pissed as fuck, but I didn’t ask him about it. I dunno what Jimmy’s doing.”

“Hmm. Who else?”

“Uh… actually, Kyle was there. I didn’t think he would show, but he helped carry the casket, so that was decent of him.”

“Kyle’s not as bad of a person as you think,” Kenny commented idly, finishing his glass and waving down the bartender for another. “He’s got his head up his ass sometimes, but he’s not evil or anything. He always felt bad about what went down with him and Tweek, you know, so it doesn’t surprise me he’d try to find closure or whatever.”

Craig shrugged. “I guess.”

“What about you-know-who? No show?”

Craig nearly choked on his sip of water. Oh yes, the Tweaks. “Showed up and ruined my whole goddamn day, more like it.” He rolled his eyes, a hand against his forehead. “He fucking passive aggressively insulted me after I made it perfectly clear in my invite he was to stay away from me if he dared to show his face.”

“ _Yikes_ ,” Kenny muttered. “You punch him?”

“Tried to. Clyde had to hold me back, but I was gonna. He thinks I’m gonna be all buddy-buddy with him after all the shit he’s pulled? Hell no. If Tweek hadn’t protested against it I would have taken his ass to court on like, five different occasions for the garbage he put him through.” With that, he took a sip of alcohol, enjoying the burning sensation down his throat. God this was not the coping mechanism he should be using, but it felt good enough.

“It’s garbage of me to say,” Kenny started, choosing his words carefully, “but at least you’ve got no ties to him now.”

“That’s not gonna stop him, but it’s a nice thought.” Craig set down the glass, biting at his lip. “I shoulda never told him I was thinking about proposing. He acts like I’m already his son-in-law.”

“Oh?” Kenny asked, his tone completely shifting. “I never heard about this. Go on?”

Craig took another awkward swallow, regret filling his chest. “Nah, I mean, just… I’d always _thought_ about it, but I wasn’t gonna pop it on Tweek while he was going through rehab and stuff. I kept telling myself I’d do it later when things were better, but… better never got a chance to really come around.”

“Did he want to?”

“I dunno, we never really talked about it.” There hadn’t been a lot of talking about anything, now that Craig thought about it. It was hard to focus on anything other than the present when so much was happening right then and now. He had hoped that his first encounter with a church after moving out of the house would have been for a wedding, but instead he got the exact opposite. Either way, nothing had ever been planned for either, and the procession had been a scramble.

There should have never had to be a plan.

“Hmm.” Kenny got his second (or maybe more, Craig didn’t know how many he’d had before he’d arrived) drink and immediately threw it back. “That’s unfortunate. I mean, the whole thing. _This_ whole thing. Life’s shit, man. You think things are gonna get better and then BAM, everything’s out the window. You just gotta keep pushin’ though, and move on. It sucks, but you do.”

“I’m _not_ moving on from Tweek,” Craig hissed defensively, glaring at Kenny as he took another sip of alcohol. “Never.”

Kenny only chuckled. “I said the same thing when mama died, but it’s the truth. Life goes on.”

“Yeah, but that’s your mom, it’s different.”

“Says who?” Kenny asked. “Loss is loss.”

“Yeah, but look where you ended up.” Craig didn’t exactly see Kenny as a shining example of what ‘moving on’ looked like. “I’m surprised you take care of Karen so well with how things are looking for you.”

“I’d look in a mirror before you make any accusations,” Kenny muttered, uncomfortable. “We’re both just doing our best here.”

There was an awkward pause.

“…And,” Kenny finally said, setting his drink down on the counter, “you never did tell me what the hell happened.”

Craig closed his eyes, debating if he dared to talk about it. “With Tweek?”

“Yeah. You ran outta work on Tuesday and you haven’t really said much since. Seriously, what went down?”

Craig drummed his fingers against the counter, took another sip of his drink, then opened his eyes. “Overdose.”

“On what?”

“Meth.”

“Oh.” Kenny didn’t verbally press, but his eyes asked for more.

“He was doing really good, too,” Craig sighed, feeling the lump in his throat already forming. “Like, the last time he used outside of the rehab and therapy and stuff was like, over a year ago. Remember right before his birthday? I found him covered in vomit banging his head against the wall in the bathroom. He couldn’t even remember where he got it from if he wanted to.” The sad reality was that there were a lot of things Tweek had been forgetting. Just a few weeks earlier, he’d been slamming his fists against his head in frustration at the fact he could no longer recall the cupcake recipe he’d had memorized since he was nine. Just three days before the overdose he had run back and forth from the bathroom at least six times in an hour to check if he’d taken his pills yet.

“I remember that. He called you at work and Mike got pissed that you had to run out. It’s amazing you’ve kept the job with all that nonsense.”

“If you’re looking for a thank you, there you go,” Craig muttered. He knew perfectly well he wouldn’t be getting by if Kenny hadn’t picked up those shifts. “Anyway, things were actually turning around for once? They got him down to one cup of coffee a day in terms of caffeine and weaned him down to like, twelve milligrams for meth, which is pretty damn awesome given where he was at when we started. He was kinda eating again and he just seemed real happy.”

“So what the fuck happened then?” Kenny asked.

“Well, you should know how it fucking works since you vowed to quit drinking after that whole thing with your mom,” Craig said, being a bit meaner than intended.

Kenny looked the other way. “Draws you back?”

“Yeah. They don’t even know where he got it from, just… someone probably offered and he couldn’t resist it. Or maybe the craving got too bad and he had to go find it, I don’t know. Either way, just…” Craig took another breath, pressing his fist against his mouth for a moment. “So, Tuesday right?”

“Yeah?”

“I guess he was making a bunch of noise and the neighbors-”

“The shitty ones?”

Craig nodded. “The jackasses. They called the doorman and got my number off him. So while we’re at work I get that call, and they’re demanding they come deal with my, quote, ‘crackhead roommate’ before they call the cops.”

Kenny was on the third drink now. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. So I thought that was weird ‘cause Tweek’s not usually loud or anything, even if he’s got anxiety stuff going on he’s not obnoxious. So I know somethings up, so I run outta work real fast to check on him. I thought I was gonna be right back, yeah? It’s probably no big deal and they’re overreacting because they hate me and Tweek because they’re Christian or whatever the fuck their deal is.”

Kenny just nodded quietly.

“So I get home and I’m walking up the stairs and I don’t hear jack shit, so either they were lying or something’s gone really bad.” The feeling in his throat would not go away no matter how hard he tried to make it stop. “So I open the door and he’s just… on the floor in the living room, his head’s all busted up on one side bleeding. They dunno still if it was an accident or he did it on purpose while he was freaking out but just… I called 911, so…” He could feel the tears slipping out as he let out a hiccup.

“You’re fine, dude,” Kenny whispered, a hand on his shoulder.

“He…he didn’t even make it to the fucking hospital.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a hard chapter to write for some reason rip??? thanks again for all the reviews, love yall <3

_“Please, please just come get me,” Tweek’s voice had begged over the phone, refusing to answer any questions no matter how many times Craig asked. It was always “come get me” between what sounded like shaking sobs._

_Their freshman year of high school had started just days before, and Tweek’s odd behavior had just been getting worse and worse since summer break. Usually they’d be able to spend time together before the temperature dropped again, but Tweek had been adamant on picking up extra shifts in the shop. Now, the cryptic phone call had left Craig fearing the worse. All he had was a vague location and a sick feeling in his stomach as he rushed down the road, arms crossed against his chest in an attempt to warm himself against the cold air. The buildings went from residential houses to a more vacant street._

_“Near Kenny’s house, near Kenny’s house,” he muttered, desperate to retain what Tweek had told him. It was getting dark; he just prayed he wasn’t in any danger. Just over the old railroad tracks was their classmate’s home, the porch lights flickering dimly in the sunset. It always got dark too early this time of year._

_“Craig,” a weakened voice cried somewhere to his right. Before he could even react, Tweek had flung himself against the taller boy, his face immediately hiding in his shoulder. Craig jumped at the contact before pulling back when he felt something odd seep into his clothing. It took no time for him to recognize the bodily fluid that had transferred from Tweek’s shirt onto his jacket. The muddied red color made him light-headed._

_“What the fuck happened?” Craig muttered before pulling Tweek close again, unable to do anything else. He didn’t care if there was blood anymore, he know it was what he needed. “Why are you even out here?”_

_Tweek was babbling nonsense as Craig attempted to soothe his shaking. “G-gotta get the…the delivery and the –ghh-- mother fucker attacked me,” he managed, grating his teeth through his tears. “Tried to s…stab me with a syringe so I grabbed whatever was c-closest and swung at him! I didn’t mean to, god, I didn’t mean to…”_

_Somehow, despite nearly five years of dating, Craig had never known what the hell the four-o’-clock delivery had entailed. Suddenly everything had clicked into place as he held the blood-soaked teen in his arms. Kenny’s house. Delivery._

_“Oh my god, oh my god,” he muttered over and over, unable to say anything more. He didn’t understand how he could have been so blind. Was the dealer even still alive in there? How badly had Tweek hurt him for all this blood? Was someone going to go after him for it? Had this happened before? He had too many questions, and Tweek was too shaken to answer them all, so he settled on what rose to the top of his mind. “Did your dad make you do this?”_

_Tweek didn’t respond, just trembling against his chest._

_“Did your dad make you?” Craig repeated, this time unable to help the aggressive tone. “You need to tell me. Right now.”_

_Tweek only whimpered. “Yeah,” he said finally, barely audible through his choked sobs._

_“For how long?”_

_“Six,” Tweek muttered, but Craig knew what he meant. God, that was practically a baby. Who sends their baby to pick up drugs? He couldn’t imagine tiny Tweek wandering his way through the streets of South Park with a bag full of whatever in his arms. Crack? He didn’t even know._

_With another shaking breath, Craig protectively kissed the top of Tweek’s head. “Did you know what you were getting?”_

_Another nod._

_Craig’s breath caught in his chest. “The whole time?”_

_“Four years,” Tweek said again, still barely audible. “F-figured it out…four years ago.”_

_Craig felt his heart sink. How could he have gone so long without putting it together? Richard always gave him terrible vibes, but he’d never known the extent of it. Tweek was always so quiet about his home life. There were never any sleepovers at his house, no asking to come over, nothing. Now he wondered just how much was happening behind closed doors. “Just… we’ll talk about this later,” he muttered, too overwhelmed. “We gotta get you outta here, okay?” If that dealer WAS alive, he was likely going to come looking for them._

_Tweek didn’t even hesitate as he pulled Craig along, practically sprinting away from the scene. “Dad’ll take care of it,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head with nothing but fear in his eyes. “Dad’ll take care of all of it, it was just an accident…”_

_Craig had a terrible feeling this wasn’t the first time._

 

* * *

 

Craig was cross-legged in the trunk of Kenny’s truck, bawling his eyes out into his hands in the cold air. At least Kenny had been kind enough to help him out of the bar to save him the embarrassment. This was the least ideal ending to an already terrible day, and the smoke wafting from Kenny’s cigarette wasn’t helping. The blond had one leg kicked up against the lip of the truck bed, leaning against the back window.

“You’re a dick, taking your smoke break while I’m cryin’ over my dead boyfriend,” Craig muttered, finally able to lift his head. His eyes ached, tearstained cheeks chilled in the soft breeze.

“Sorry,” Kenny said, but he didn’t seem to mean it. “If you want one too, I won’t deny ya, though.”

Craig shook his head, letting out a small, shaking gasp. “I’d never. You got me to drink tonight, I’m not smoking, too.”

“Didn’t you used to?” Kenny asked, tilting his head back just enough to look at the stars just barely peeking into view. “In high school or something?”

Craig rolled his eyes, unable to find his usual bite as he practically whimpered his response. “Yeah, like once freshman year when Jason White brought a pack to share. It tasted like shit and after Tweek told me what was going on at home I couldn’t do another if I wanted to.” A lot of things had changed freshman year, more than Craig had liked. That was really when Tweek had hit his breaking point. Things had only been downhill from there.

Kenny only hummed. “I left halfway ‘cause of mama, so how was I to know?”

“It was that long ago?” Craig asked, wiping at his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Kenny was trying to distract him, but it was working.

“Yeah, I was fifteen.”

Craig bit his lip. At least Tweek had finished high school. “But you went back?”

“Yeah, senior year for a GED. Didn’t work though.” Kenny let out a chuckle. “Why go through all that work when I needed shifts? It wasn’t worth it. All I gotta do is put food on the table and this job does it. If Karen can graduate with a lil scholarship for that shitty community up north, I’ll be satisfied. She’s got more of a shot, ya know, and I like it that way.”

“You said in eighth you were gonna do the same.”

Kenny took a drag, smirking. “You and I both know shit hardly works out in this garbage town. There’s no out unless you’re lucky. Clyde? Lucky. Jimmy? Lucky. Token? Born lucky.”

Craig laughed through his remaining tears. “I guess so.” It was a bittersweet thought that perhaps this whole thing had been inevitable, that it wasn’t his fault for not stopping it sooner. “Ugh… dude, I hope you don’t see me as a fuckin’ flake, but I really can’t do any more of this tonight.” Before Kenny could protest he forced himself up, leaping out of the car and landing a bit too rough on the ground. “Good chat, but I’m outta here.”

“Fine,” Kenny said, but he sounded disappointed. “See ya Monday then, if you bother to get out of bed. Don’t be a bump on a log, ‘kay?”

Craig didn’t respond, arms crossing over his chest in the cold as he trudged back to his car, fumbling with his keys before hitting the road again. He’d only been out for an hour, but he needed to sleep again. Human contact was just too much to handle this early in his grief. He liked Kenny best out of the handful of people he could call his friends, but even he was difficult to talk to sometimes. Now was one of those times.

He cranked the radio and forced himself to sing along in an attempt to stay awake, fingers gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter than necessary. It didn’t take long for him to find himself pulling into the apartment’s parking lot and trudging back up the stairs where he’d come from.

Home sweet empty home.

Craig didn’t even bother to make it to the bed this time, just throwing himself against the couch and letting out an obnoxious sigh as he clicked on the TV to some garbage he didn’t even want to watch. His head fell onto one of the throw pillows Tweek had insisted they get at the thrift store a few months before. It was a gross brown color, embroidered with a sunflower. In Craig’s opinion it was incredibly ugly, but Tweek had liked it so he’d let him bring it home. As his eyes closed, he couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the grief messing with his mind as his imaginary Tweek spoke to him for the second time that day.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ he asked softly. Craig’s head was no longer against a pillow; no, it was his lap now, and Tweek would probably play with his hair. Unable to help himself, he ran his hand through his dark mop to simulate it.

“I just really miss you,” he whispered, the TV droning quietly to fill the empty space. “I just really, really miss you today. I missed you yesterday and the day before that all the way since Tuesday, but especially today. Today’s the _worst_.”

 _“I miss you too,”_ he made him say, just to comfort himself. Imaginary Tweek was soft and warm and healthy. He wasn’t the fragile, tiny thing they’d had to put inside that casket. He was everything he should have been without the drugs and the caffeine and every side effect that had come with it.

“I don’t want Kenny to be right,” Craig admitted, feeling safe enough to continue rambling to himself. “I don’t want to move on from you. I shouldn’t have to.”

 _“You don’t have to,”_ imaginary Tweek assured him.

Shitty commercials about vacuum cleaners filled the nothingness in Craig’s ears. “Still hurts though,” he found himself saying, squeezing his eyes shut as those pesky tears came back in full force. “Still hurts thinking about it.” God, Tweek was the only thing he wanted to think about, yet each time he came to mind it felt like water in his lungs. He was drowning in a sea of poison, his only antidote the soft kisses of his dearly departed.

God, he sounded like one of Clyde’s pretentious scholarship poems.

 _“Don’t worry about it,”_ his imaginary lover replied to him by habit, _“Clyde got pretty far by being a pretentious asshole.”_ No, that’s not exactly something Tweek would say, but he didn’t care. Craig let his hand drop from his hair and the vision fade away, defeated. Unable to keep his weeping eyes open, he drifted into a quiet sleep.

 

* * *

 

_They’d only been living together for a matter of days when Tweek had his first major breakdown._

_“I have to go back, I have to go back,” he’d chanted over and over, banging his hands against Craig’s chest when he’d tried to restrain him. Craig had been promising him this day ever since they were sixteen when things had begun to really fall apart around him; one day they’d be on their own together and everything would be okay. No more controlling father, no more absent mother, no more coffee, no more drug deliveries._

_Tweek’s enthusiasm about finally being free had taken a drastic turn, however._

_It started the first day when he’d suddenly become sulky, opting to lay on the couch for a good chunk of time while Craig continued to move things into the apartment. Then he’d begun his anxious ticking, fingers pulling at his hair. He’d muttered nonsense and claimed to be dizzy until he finally snapped, head throbbing as the odd nervous tremors wracked his body. Now he was practically screaming as Craig tried to hold him back._

_“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he assured him, but his voice was full of frustration. This had been going on for nearly an hour now. “They don’t deserve your attention, remember? We went through this, honey.”_

_Tweek hardly acknowledged him, shaking violently as he tried to break free of Craig’s grasp. “Nononononono,” he gasped, attempting to get at the front door again. The next bit out of his mouth was a set of distressed noises, making his boyfriend wince. God, he sounded like a small, pained animal. It physically hurt to see him like this._

_“No,” Craig could only say right back, wrestling him back towards the couch. “Don’t touch that door, got it? You can do this.” He forced Tweek’s head against his chest like he always did, whispering soothing things, but nothing was working. This wasn’t just any other panic attack; it was a desperate attempt to gain back something he’d been so abruptly cut off from. “You remember when you told them you were done with them? Remember, babe? You told them you want nothing to do with them, and you walked out that door. You gotta stick to it, show them they can’t hold you down anymore!”_

_Tweek just let out another cry, unable to give up his struggling fight. It wasn’t until he was babbling something about coffee and wanting to die that Craig found himself reaching for the phone to call the hospital in his own panic. Six hours and an IV later, the laundry list had gone on and on. Panic disorder, meth addiction, caffeine addiction, psychological dependency issues, abuse, abuse, abuse._

_The hardest part was watching Tweek lie to the nurse that none of it was Richard’s fault._

 

* * *

 

When Craig’s eyes fluttered open again, the odd infomercial echoing in the living room told him it was in the early hours of the morning. With a yawn and a stretch he forced himself upright, lifting his head to find the ugly throw pillow staring back at him. He wished he had the guts just to toss it out, but he knew Tweek would have been upset, so he let it be. He rubbed at his eyes before wandering off the couch, head just barely aching. It wasn’t enough to take medicine (he’d always been stingy with it; you never knew when Tweek was going to need it more) but it was enough to bother him.

God did their shitty apartment feel so tiny when he was alone in it.

Craig wandered to the kitchen, grabbing a half-empty glass from earlier that day and finishing it down, elbows against the counter. This was not the way he wanted to be spending his Saturday night (well, Sunday morning). How could he have been laying so peacefully in his bed with his boyfriend in his arms one week and have him gone the next? It felt like a cruel joke. His eyes drifted to the pile of unopened envelopes sitting near him. He hadn’t had the strength to peek at those useless hospital bills yet. Tweek was gone despite their attempts to fix him, and he wanted no such reminder.

God, he was getting _way_ into his head right now.

The phone in his pocket was practically burning for attention as he stood awkwardly in the kitchen, empty glass still in his hand. It was probably too early to be contacting anyone, but he was getting desperate. He didn’t have many options, and he was sure none of them would be too fond of him for the wake-up call. He fished it from his pocket only to stare blankly at the screen for a moment, weighing his options. Kenny had tired him out enough that day, so perhaps…

Craig impulsively scrolled through his contacts and hit call before he could regret it. There were a few long rings before a groggy voice whispered a quiet “hello” on the other end.

“Clyde?” he asked softly back, biting at his lip.

“Who’s this?” Clyde muttered, clearly very unhappy.

“It’s Craig.”

“Oh, hey. Uh… you do know it’s like…” There was a pause. “Three thirty in the fuckin’ morning, right?”

Craig swallowed awkwardly. “Yeah. I know.”

Another pause. “So what’s up then?”

God, this suddenly seemed like a huge mistake. “I’m lonely,” he muttered childishly, unable to help himself. Those were the cold hard facts, though. There was no other way to say it.

Clyde was clearly stifling giggles. “Jeez, sorry to hear that dude.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was trying not to wake someone up. “If you’d have said something at the funeral earlier, we’d have stuck around town for a little longer or something.”

“We?”

“Me and Token…?” Clyde answered, confused. “We share a place in Denver with Nichole. Didn’t you know that?”

God, this call was doing the exact opposite of what he’d hoped. No, he didn’t know that because he’d been isolated from all his friends during the madness of keeping up with his stressful day-to-day life. What was he supposed to say? _No, you didn’t tell me about that because you all abandoned me when Tweek got to be too much to handle. No Clyde, you haven’t talked to me in over a year or made an attempt to call me. No, I’m still stuck in shitty South Park while you got the hell out._

“Craig? You still there?”

Craig jerked himself back to reality. “Y-yeah, sorry, I think it cut out for a second. Nah, I didn’t know about that.” He paused, debating if it was even appropriate to ask his next question. Clyde loved gossip as much as Kenny did though, so it was worth a shot to keep their awkward conversation going. “Is…is Nichole _the_ girlfriend? The one who’s kinda…”

“Pregnant? Yeah.” Clyde’s tired voice almost immediately perked up. “She was gonna come up with us but she had work. She’s like, three months now or something. Toke’s parents got pissed as fuck because they aren’t married or anything and they wanted him to be first, but I guess he might pop the question soon to make it official. He said he was planning to anyway but I don’t know if he means it or if he’s just trying to get them off his back.”

Craig could care less about his sort-of-but-not-really friend’s relationship issues. “Hm. Interesting.”

“He loves her though, so I guess in the end it doesn’t matter. He hopes it’s a boy but Nichole thinks it’s a girl. They’re gonna find out soon-ish and when they do we’re gonna paint this room in the back of the condo for them. At least there’s room so it’s not an awkward rush to find space or anything. They aren’t moving so I can keep my roommate. Dude, do you know how expensive stuff is up here? I couldn’t afford it on my own!”

“So it’s because you’re poor, not because you’re secretly banging Token on the side?” Craig asked, unable to help himself. Clyde only sputtered in response. “Hah, got ya. Don’t think I’m not gonna hold your crush confession against you.” Late night sleepovers in seventh grade with your best friend lead to some interesting secrets.

“Fuck you. I was gonna invite you to come up and visit, but maybe I changed my mind!”

Craig nearly dropped the phone. “No, nonono, hey, don’t be like that.”

Another pause. “Fine. How about you come up next weekend to say hi and get your mind off shit? We all need to catch up anyway, and you’re gonna probably be knee-deep in tissues by then if we don’t make you leave your house.”

Craig rolled his eyes. Even if it was a week away, he’d at least gotten what he’d wanted out of the situation. “Fine. Text me the address?”

“Will do. Now get back to bed, dumbass, stop calling people so early in the morning. I thought depressed people were supposed to sleep a lot.”

“I’m not depressed,” Craig said defensively, but Clyde had already hung up. All he had left was empty silence and a promise of human interaction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless your reviews, it keeps me inspired! this chapter took embarrassingly long to work on rip

_“Happy birthday, honey.”_

_The morning sun shone gently through the slats of the blinds onto Tweek’s sleeping face, painting a striped pattern across his pale skin. Craig kissed him again and again until he awoke with giggles, hazel eyes blinking open with the delicacy of butterfly wings. “Thanks,” he muttered before returning the little smooches, rolling over just enough to press his face to Craig’s chest._

_“Twenty-one, baby, you made it,” Craig practically cooed, holding him close beneath the warm sheets. August 17 th had always been a special day in his eyes. Tweek’s birthday was a milestone, proof that he could survive despite the odds stacked against him. His therapy was going great, he was eating three meals a day and he hadn’t used since August of the previous year. He couldn’t believe that he’d feared Tweek’s twentieth of being a long-shot; now he was twenty-one and thriving. “I got off from work, so we’ll have all day to celebrate.”_

_“Craig, you shouldn’t have,” Tweek whispered, but his warm hug didn’t waver. If anything, he squeezed tighter. “I thought you said you have to be more careful about taking leave?”_

_“Nah,” he said, shifting a bit until he was on his back, Tweek’s head against his chest. His eyes just stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly counting the glowing sticker stars they’d hung up together in January. It had been his birthday present, and he’d thought it was hilarious that Tweek would remember those peeling stickers from his childhood bedroom. “I haven’t had to take off for a while, so Mike said it was fine.” He ruffled Tweek’s hair, unable to help the grin on his face. There hadn’t been any reason to run out of work lately, so he’d finally been building trust with his boss again. “Maybe if I keep it up, I’ll get a raise.”_

_“That’d be nice,” Tweek said. Craig couldn’t see his face, but he could feel that grin against him as he cuddled closer._

_“Once we get the last visit all paid off, maybe we can put start putting some money aside. Ya know, to get outta here? No more South Park, no more bullshit.” Craig had always wanted to leave, but it just had never been possible with everything going on. “It’ll be good for you to get away, I think.”_

_“It’s the next big step,” Tweek agreed, his eyes drifting shut again. The bed was too warm and his boyfriend too soft to make him want to get up. “But baby steps are still progress, right?”_

_Craig nodded, shifting so he could kiss him again. “Baby steps are always progress, honey.” He’d take a million baby steps if it meant things could finally be normal._

 

* * *

 

“Woah there, Tucker, actually on time for once?”

Friday afternoons were always too damn busy in the shop without Kenny’s talking, but Craig humored him anyway. “You’re lucky I showed up at all.” Getting out of bed had been particularly hard, but he’d managed.

Kenny just shot him a quick grin from across the garage, hunched over a car with a popped hood. “Hmm. You’re a damn liar, aren’t you? I noticed you staying late the last few days. You wanna be here for _some_ reason, huh?”

There was the sound of metal clanging as Craig sorted through his tools. “What’s this one need?” he asked, ignoring the question as he approached what Kenny was working on.

“Oil change, nothing big. Where’s my answer, though?”

Goddammit. “Just trying to get in good with Mike again,” he finally admitted.

“You’re not getting a raise,” Kenny sighed, almost amused. “Listen, I’ve covered every single shift you’ve ever skipped and guess what? _I_ haven’t even gotten a raise.”

Craig tried to control himself, but he kicked at the car in frustration. God d _ammit!_ “I hate this fucking town,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. Nothing ever worked out the way he hoped. If only he’d just summoned the guts to risk moving out to Denver with Tweek in the first place. Maybe he’d have been able to keep up his friendship with Clyde. Maybe Tweek could have gotten better treatment or harder access to his cravings. There were a lot of ‘what if’ and not enough brain capacity to sort through them all. “Money’s still money though, I guess,” he admitted, trying to keep somewhat positive.

“You still got bills to pay off?”

He only nodded, scooting beside Kenny to assist. There was a lot of debt to deal with even if he wanted to leave- which he didn’t. Anxiety had already brought him to the gravesite twice since Saturday, not including Monday when Tricia had come home and they’d gone together. It was irrational, but he couldn’t help but feel like if he didn’t check that Tweek was still there, he’d just straight-up vanish. It didn’t matter how many times Kenny assured him that the shitty feelings would pass; it had been nearly a week since the burial service and it still stung every time he thought about it.

Kenny gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. It was an awkward attempt at comfort, but Craig appreciated it anyway. “Is it hospital? Funeral?”

“Fuckin’ both,” he admitted. “I didn’t know that shit cost so much or else I’d have saved up or something.” The thought of putting money aside for Tweek’s inevitable casket while he was still alive was a painful thought. He’d always imagined that if it _had_ happened, Tweek would have maybe been in the hospital with something terminal and the doctor would say _he only has so long to live_ like a TV drama. Then they’d decide together what to do. Craig hated making decisions alone. The scramble of a procession had been _so_ hard alone.

“They see ya hurting and they reel you in,” Kenny sighed, hands working expertly in the depths of the car’s machinery. He’d always had a knack for mechanical work, whether he liked the job or not. “I walked in with Karen crying and they tried to milk all they could from us. Good thing I was smart. Grieving, but smart.” He chewed obnoxiously on his gum silence before he spoke again. “Well, are you gonna come in tomorrow or something then?”

“Actually, I can’t.” Craig wasn’t scheduled for a shift anyway. “I’m driving down to Denver.”

“Denver? What the hell are you doing out there?” Kenny perked up as he stepped back from the car, slamming the hood and yelling at coworker that they were finished.

“Clyde invited me out to visit. He’s got a condo or something with Token and Nichole. Some nonsense about how it’ll be good for me or something.” He wasn’t about to admit that it was his desperate 3AM phone call that had triggered the invite, so he left it at that.

“Well, it probably _will_ be good for you,” Kenny admitted, shrugging his shoulders as he made his way to the next car in line. “I just find it weird it’s Clyde of all people. I thought you said you didn’t talk anymore?”

“Not like ‘never again’ don’t talk. More like ‘too busy to talk but we’re still kinda friends’ don’t talk,” Craig corrected. That was almost completely true. He knew it was his focus on Tweek that had driven him away. Clyde had felt abandoned so he turned to Token as his new best friend and there was nothing Craig could have said to fix it. “It’ll be good to catch up.”

“Well, bring me back the details then, I wanna know what they’re up to,” Kenny said. He seemed to remember most of their childhood friendships through gossip these days; they were stuck in the same boat for a lot of different reasons though, so Craig silently agreed. He owed him.

The rest of their shifts continued in silence as cars came in and out. Even with the heavy feelings in his chest, Craig found comfort in the routine. He’d always liked order and structure, and working on cars, despite how badly he wished he had a different job, satisfied his cravings. College and higher education would have been nice, but bills were more important.

Tweek was always more important.

Before he knew it, his shifts were over, and Craig trudged back to his own vehicle. It was still early enough to run errands, and he felt oddly motivated from his talk with Kenny. Besides, he needed groceries. The fridge had been practically empty the last few days. He let muscle memory take over and his brain turn off as he sped down the road until he reached Whole Foods. His mind seemed to go completely blank a lot lately.

“God I hate this fucking place,” he muttered, hands in the pockets of his coat as he made his way inside. Tweek didn’t mind it so much, but he didn’t deal with the finances. “Expensive hippie garbage…” It sucked that there weren’t more options in town. Thanks, Randy Marsh. He could hate Stan on the basis he was related to that man _alone._

With an unenthusiastic sigh, Craig grabbed a cart, making his way down the aisles. Even just the sight of food brought back memories of Tweek in the kitchen. He’d always been a gifted chef, weather it was baking or cooking. Any problem he faced seemed to end with him screaming along to upbeat music and beating dough into the counter.

God, did Craig miss coming home to that.

By habit, he wandered down the baking aisle, eyeing the mass of organic garbage that lined the shelves. He grabbed a box mix of chocolate cake and tossed it in the cart. “Sorry baby,” he muttered, unable to help the smile on his face. Tweek would probably scream about how disgusting it was, but it wasn’t like he knew how to make it from scratch. “I’ll pretend you made it for me.” Tweek would never touch a box mix.

The rest of his shopping trip went smooth enough, peppered by passerby’s telling him they were sorry for his loss. He had forgotten how fast news traveled in town; he didn’t even know most of them. It wasn’t their acknowledgement of the situation that hurt either, but more the fact that nobody had really cared about Tweek before. Nobody in the town could have cared less if he still existed, especially-

He froze in his tracks, the breath catching in his chest. There at the end of aisle 3 stood Mrs. Tweak, looking quietly between boxes of cereal.

Craig took a small breath, hesitating. No, it didn’t matter if she was there or not. It wasn’t like she was going to talk anyway. He pushed the cart forward, intending just to grab what he needed and go, but he couldn’t help the pounding in his chest as he approached her. The wheels squeaked to a stop.

“Hello Craig,” she said softly, turning just enough to look at him. Craig glanced at her by habit, immediately captivated by the odd look on her face.  He’d never been fond of either Tweak parent, particularly Richard, but there was something so unnerving about seeing Hellen alone. She always seemed glued to her husband’s side, unmoving until she needed to just like a marionette on a string. Without Richard, she was quite literally a living doll; pale and fragile and quiet as she ever was.

“Hi,” Craig managed, feeling his shoulders tense. She hadn’t always been this way, had she? He could have sworn she had been a bit livelier when they were children. The vacant look in her eyes had only become emptier with time, but perhaps so had Tweek’s.

God, the resemblance between the two was uncanny.

“It’s good to see you,” she finally said.

Craig snapped out of his trance, looking the other way. He hadn’t meant to stare. “Good to see you too,” he managed. Was Richard around, or was she truly alone? It was hard to tell her intentions.

“How are you?” Hellen asked.

“Um… doing good,” Craig replied, confused by the small talk as he dared another peek. Her voice and her face just looked so sad. It was the most emotion he’d seen her show for a long time. “And you?”

Her response was an odd shake of the head, refusing to speak as she fiddled with boxes on a shelf. That’s all she gave him to work with as he continued to stare, almost rudely so. She was so much thinner than when he’d seen her the week before at the funeral. Craig remembered when Tweek had dropped weight like that; his new pills had made him vomit nearly every time he ate, and just one week had left him in the hospital ridiculously smaller than he already had been. Of course, Mrs. Tweak had not come to visit him. She never did.

Craig wasn’t sure if he should have any pity on her as he took another deep breath, stepping back to his cart. “Well, good talk,” he muttered, wanting out of the uncomfortable situation as soon as possible.

“Craig, wait,” Hellen said suddenly, actual volume in her voice. It was enough to make him stop, turning sharply on his heels in surprise. As soon as their eyes met her face contorted as if she were trying not to cry, mouth opening as she struggled to find the words. “I…thank you.”

He blinked a few times. “For…for what?”

“For taking care of him.”

There was another awkward pause as Craig felt confusion wash over him. He hadn’t heard her utter an independent thought since they day Tweek had moved out of the house. For years both he and Tweek resented her, but now, for just a moment, he saw more than the porcelain doll who never batted an eye at her abused child. She was shattered glass; perhaps like Tweek, she too had finally hit her breaking point. Beyond that vacant stare was the soul of a grieving mother.

Maybe she and Tweek really had never been that different in the first place.

“I…it’s no problem,” he finally said, but she was already gone, having taken off down the aisle and vanished around the corner. Shaken by the odd encounter, Craig pushed his own cart back towards the checkout. He wasn’t sure what to make of Hellen anymore. He hoped he wouldn’t run into her again.

 

* * *

 

Craig woke up early Saturday morning, plugging the address Clyde had texted him into his GPS before climbing into the car. He’d only seen him a week before, but the anxiety in his stomach made him feel like it had been years and years. Denver was a bit of a drive away, so he hoped it would be a worthy experience. He had to drag himself out of bed and shower for this, dammit, he was gonna enjoy himself. He quickly switched to his texting app as the car warmed up, shivering against the cold seat.

 _Craig: im in denver today so if you need me im not in town_  
_Craig: do u think it would be weird to give nichole like flowers or something or is that weird_  
 _Tricia: idk i think its cute_

“Yeah, but is it _weird?_ ” he muttered out loud, pulling out of the parking space and onto the road. He decided to take his sister’s advice anyway, stopping off at a drugstore and picking out a nice bunch before hitting the road again for the long drive. The quiet streets of South Park soon melted away to the city, the GPS leading him through traffic until he found the street Clyde had told him. It was a nice enough neighborhood full of little houses, decorated with trees and bushes and plenty of greenery despite the cold weather. When he really thought about it, though, it made sense. Token probably owned the place; he had a nice degree and a job as a nurse practitioner to support it.

Craig carefully pulled into the driveway of a red-tinted house, triple checking the address before grabbing his bouquet from the passenger side and climbing out. Little fairy figurines decorated the currently barren garden beds as he walked to the front door. He had a feeling they were Nichole’s, and as tacky as they were, he kind of liked them.

Knock, knock, knock, and here he went. No turning back now.

There was a slight pause before the running of feet from inside and the squeak of the opening door. “Oh, for me?” Clyde teased, giving one of his signature grins.

“Cut it, jackass,” Craig laughed, unable to help his own smile. It was just like old times. “They’re for Nichole.”

Clyde narrowed his eyes before letting the door open wider, inviting him in. “That’s oddly sweet of you. I didn’t think of you to be that kind of guy.”

“I’m normally not, but…you know. I thought it was appropriate?” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “I mean, the baby and all. Don’t people give pregnant girls gifts?”

“I mean, you _can_. I just found it funny is all.” Clyde shut the door behind him and stepped forward, encouraging him to follow. It was a nice place with high ceilings and nice floors. God, Craig wished he could have afforded something like it for him and Tweek to live in. Tweek would have loved it.

“Craig, hi!” a cheerful voice called as they entered a living room. Nichole nearly leapt from the couch, sweeping Craig into a hug before he could even react.

“Hey, oh jeez,” he muttered when she finally pulled back. She’d lost most her baby-face, but she was still just as short and full of energy as before. Unable to help himself, his eyes dropped lower to her stomach. Clyde had said she wasn’t far along, and if he hadn’t known about it, he wouldn’t have been able to distinguish any sort of bump. Without thought, he thrust the flowers forward, coughing slightly. “Uh, these are for you. For the baby. Congrats?”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking them into her arms and inhaling. “They smell really nice! That’s really sweet of you, Craig.”

Satisfied, Craig let out a sigh of relief. They hadn’t come off as weird as he thought they would, which was good. “Clyde said you’re like, three months?”

“Sixteen weeks, so yeah, pretty much.” She took the flowers with her towards the kitchen, pulling a vase from a cabinet and setting them inside. “We’re gonna see the doctor in a few weeks to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Craig said, doing his best to sound interested. “Where’s Token at?”

“He’s upstairs I think. Probably will be down in a few minutes.” Nichole sat back down on the couch, Clyde flopping down next to her almost immediately after. The side-table next to him was littered with scribbled-in notebooks, likely some work in progress prose. “Come sit down though, really! How was the drive?”

“It was fine.” Craig sat opposite of her on a separate couch, almost uncomfortable. He wasn’t fond of small talk at all. “It’s nice up here.”

“ _So_ much better than South Park,” Clyde almost shouted, lying on his back with his feet up against the cushions. “Dude, you gotta come out here with us, it’s great.”

Craig shrugged, feeling tense and even more uncomfortable than before. God, that’s what he’d wanted initially before the nightmare of hospital visits had begun. “Well, I… I can’t really…” Afford it? No, he didn’t want to be up front with that, it was too embarrassing. “Tweek’s there, so…”

A pause.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Nichole said softly, giving a sympathetic nod. “I understand it’s still a tender subject.” She swatted at Clyde, giving him a look. “He doesn’t mean to bring it up.”

“Well, I heard that you’re supposed to talk about stuff to make you feel better, so if he wants, he can tell us,” Clyde said, giving her an innocent look right back. Approaching footsteps made him look up. “Token, hey, doctor dude, isn’t that true?”

“I’m a nurse, not a psychiatrist,” Token muttered, sitting down beside Craig. “Glad to see you could make it,” he added with a pat to his shoulder. “But if you wanna talk, we’re all ears. Isn’t that why you’re here, anyway?”

Craig shook his head. No, that was not at all why he was there. If anything, he wanted to avoid bringing Tweek up as much as possible. “I mean, I don’t _care_ if you wanna be nosey and find out or whatever.” That came out a lot more bitter than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like they’d been present in his or Tweek’s lives to really care.

“What’s more important is how _you’re_ doing,” Nichole corrected quickly. “Really, Craig, I know it’s hard right now, but we’re here for you.”

Craig let out a sigh, forcing himself to settle down into his seat. This was a lot harder than his conversation at the bar with Kenny. At least he talked to Ken nearly every day of the week anyway; Clyde and Token and Nichole might as well have been strangers. “It’s hard,” he admitted despite his gut telling him to hush. “Just taking it day by day right now.”

Clyde didn’t even hesitate. “So did he like… kill himself?” he asked, earning an actual smack on the head this time from Nichole. Her mouth dropped open in aghast, unsure how to respond to it.

“No,” Craig corrected, numb to it by now. Enough people had asked. “Overdose. It was a meth overdose.”

“Jeez, meth?” Token asked, frowning. “I didn’t think he was…you know.”

“Wasn’t his fault,” he sighed. “His dad got him addicted for who-knows-why when he was a kid and he couldn’t kick it. That shit takes over your life, you know. The doctor was shocked he made it to eighteen, let alone twenty-one.” God, the age stung in his chest again. Too young, too young. He should have been sitting on the couch beside him right then and there, laughing and joking with their friends.

“Is that why you tried to punch Richard?” Clyde was sitting upright now as he rubbed at his head, guilt on his face. “Maybe you should have.”

“If you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve,” Craig admitted, shaking his head. He’d always wanted to punch him, or sue him, or do any number of things, but Tweek had begged and begged not to make it worse. He was terrified of the man and with good reason. Even now, Craig wouldn’t break the promise he’d made to stay friendly, even if he wanted Richard to pay for everything he was forced to deal with as a repercussion. “But what’s done is done. Tweek’s not here, so it’s not like it matters.”

No, Tweek always mattered, the fuck was he saying?

“It _does_ matter,” Token assured him anyway, his hand against his shoulder for a second time. “We’ve got you, dude. I know it’s been a rough few years. We weren’t there for you and we should have been. Let’s try to change that, okay?”

Craig just nodded, trying his best to keep the tears threatening to spill at bay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this one flows alright, I was struggling a bit but I pushed through!! as usual thank you so much for your kind comments and even some fanart on tumblr!!! I love yall so much thank you for reading~

_Craig remembered the day when the Tweak’s fake, kind smiles and teasingly soft greetings changed to cold shoulders._

_It was early October when Tweek had texted him frantically, most of his words nothing but keysmashing.. Ever since the incident near Kenny’s house, information had been spilling from Tweek’s lips faster than Craig could keep up with it. His father’s controlling attitude, the strain of child labor, how much coffee he was consuming, it all fell into his lap. Things that had been so carefully hidden away inside of the brown house with the crooked shutters were being spoken for the first time. Craig didn’t dare say anything about it after Tweek’s begging, but things seemed to be getting worse regardless._

_Craig was sure Richard already knew the secrets had been spilled._

_Now he stood in the freezing cold, rain soaking his shoes as he stood before their house, banging frantically on the door. If Tweek couldn’t even articulate through text what was wrong, this was an emergency. Unable to help himself, he knocked for a second time at a lack of answer. Then the doorbell. Then another knock._

_The door finally opened, Mrs. Tweak’s empty eyes peering at him from behind it._

_“Let me in,” Craig hissed, trying not to let her odd gaze startle him. “Just move!” She stepped aside quicker than he’d ever seen her go as he shoved the door open, marching towards the stairs, wet shoes squeaking on the wooden floor. Part of him wanted to hunt Richard down and dispose of him the same way Tweek had described him ‘taking care of’ the dealer, but his focus was on his boyfriend. There was some sort of commotion downstairs, but he filtered it out as he hurried towards his bedroom. It had been years since he actually stepped inside of it, but he pushed the door open anyway._

_There sat Tweek in the middle of the floor, surrounded by empty plastic cups and mugs. His hands were in his hair as he rocked back and forth, muttering over and over and over that he wanted out, out, out._

_“Tweek, honey, let’s go,” Craig had practically begged him, snapping him out of the odd trance just long enough to get him off the floor. He didn’t care if he had to carry him down the street, he just wanted him out of whatever the hell was going on in this hell house. “I’ve got you, we’re going now.”_

_Tweek just nodded weakly, eyes wide with some sort of terror as he clung to Craig’s side. Together they trekked down the stairs to find Richard at the bottom, one hand on the railing._

_“Oh, hello Craig,” he practically whispered, but almost mockingly-so. The obsessive warmth in his voice had completely vanished. Craig knew his secrets now; he was no longer just a pawn he could exploit for his own gain._

_No, Craig was now a threat._

_“Get away from him,” Craig had hissed right back, continuing to usher Tweek towards the door._

_“Where are you going?” the man continued, his eyes flashing something dangerous. “He’s got the four o’clock delivery to take care of. There’s no time for nonsense right now.”_

_Tweek’s entire body tensed up despite his rapid trembling._

_“Go pick up your own crack, you piece of shit,” Craig shouted before moving towards the door, throwing it open. As he hurried down the porch steps, he could hear one last warning before it slammed behind him._

_“You can take him away, but he’ll be back. He’s always back.”_

 

* * *

 

 One month.

Craig let out a deep breath as he stared at the calendar, fingers trembling as he raised the yellow marker towards the box. Everything before that dreadful Tuesday had been in red, but yellow had seemed so much more fitting since Tweek’s departure. It was his color; Craig would always nickname him yellow things like “sunshine” or “sunflower” or something else obnoxiously cheesy. He carefully marked off the 13th of April before setting it back down on the desk.

God, one whole month.

It felt like the longest month of his life, yet no time at all. The necessity of working off the remaining bills had been the only thing dragging him out of bed, and his fleeting visions of his imaginary lover never seemed to quit. He’d gone and visited Tweek’s old therapist for the hell of it, and he’d remarked that it was common for him to feel depressed or struggle to cope.

He’d insisted he wasn’t depressed.

A sudden buzzing in Craig’s pocket pulled him back to reality, eyes blinking until he felt like he was in the present again. The calendar was still in front of him, those yellow cross marks glaring at him as his fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey dude,” Kenny greeted him back. His voice was slightly slurred. He’d been drinking. “What’s up?”

“I literally just saw you two hours ago,” Craig muttered, clasping a hand to his shoulder and rubbing absentmindedly. He began to wander away from the desk, not wanting to look at the reminder anymore. “What, I forget somethin’ at work?”

“Nah,” Kenny said. “Just wanted to know if you wanted to pour one out tonight, yeah? Happy anniversary.”

“Fuck you,” Craig sighed, laying down against the couch. His head found itself on the ugly throw pillow again, but he didn’t mind as much now. There had been a lot of belongings he’d already gone through, but it had been one of the keepers. He couldn’t bear to part with the thing. “Seriously, that’s uncalled for.”

“Jeez, sorry.” A pause. “But really, you wanna chill?”

Craig shook his head against the pillow before forgetting Kenny couldn’t see it. “I… sorry dude, I would if I could.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, it’s just…” Craig let out another sigh, a bit of guilt creeping into his stomach. “I already have plans tonight to meet the guys and Nichole.” He’d already turned down Kenny’s invitations three times in the last couple of weeks in favor of the other group. They’d welcomed him back so kindly it was hard to turn them away. “Toke and Nichole are gonna announce the results from the ultrasound. Figured I should be there is all.”

“Oh.” That was all Kenny said in response, but Craig knew he wasn’t happy.

“I mean…” he searched desperately for something to say. “I’ll tell you when I get home what the baby is. More ‘hot goss’ for you, yeah?”

No response.

Craig let out the air in his lungs, facing the facts. “Okay. I know what you’re gonna say, so just say it.”

“You’ve been hanging around them a lot,” Kenny said. It wasn’t necessarily an accusation; he said it matter-of-fact. It was an observation.

“Mmhmm. And?”

“And.” Pause. “And I just want you to think about who’s been with you _unconditionally_ since the whole thing blew up.”

Ouch. “Kenny, don’t do this,” Craig sighed. He’d played with fire, and now it was going up in flames. He shouldn’t have ignored him. He shouldn’t have gone to Denver every weekend. Too many ‘should have’s, not enough doing. “I’m serious, please, we don’t need this right now.”

Kenny didn’t even hesitate. “Who covered those shifts?” There was a hint of aggressiveness in his voice. Craig didn’t answer, the anxious feeling in his chest only growing. “I mean it, Tucker, who covered ‘em?”

“You did,” he finally said, rolling his eyes in an attempt to keep the feelings at bay.

“And who kept all those secrets you told me not to blab about?”

“You did.”

“And who actually came and visited him in the hospital?”

“...You.”

There was another awkward pause. “I’m sorry, dude,” Kenny slurred. There was an odd sound, as if he were sniffling. “We just gotta stick together, okay? You know how much it fuckin’ sucks to be left alone. Just think about it.” There was another shuffle of fabric before the line went dead.

Perfect. Fucking perfect. Just what he needed right now.

Craig let out another shaking breath as he let the phone drop onto the sofa beside him, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. He didn’t have time to wallow in shitty feelings. _Kenny was drunk. Kenny says dumb things all the time when he drinks._ Yes, that would have to justify it for now. He’d see him the next day at work and things would blow over fine.

Another buzz from his phone forced him to lift it from the cushion again, blinking away the remaining hints of tears.

_Clyde: Just wanted to let you know we’re on our way down. See you in an hour?_

Of all people to type in perfect sentences when they texted, it had to be Clyde. He could barely speak properly when they met in person, but god was that boy a writer if Craig ever met one.

 _Craig: yeah sounds fine_  
_Craig: really tired after work kinda just wanna sleep but_  
 _Craig: i know this is important to toke and nichole so. ill drag my ass out the door_  
 _Clyde: You’re a real trooper, thanks dude! Seriously, none of us have even seen it yet._  
 _Craig: seen what_  
 _Clyde: You know, the baby? Nichole had them put the ultrasound picture in an envelope for tonight. She wants us all to find out together._  
 _Craig: oh thats cool_

There was an odd pang of jealously in Craig’s chest as he sat up on the couch, rubbing at his eyes. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them; if he wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t have agreed to meet for dinner. He wouldn’t have kept bringing Nichole different flowers every weekend trip or joked along with Token about how much her stomach had grown in the last few weeks.

The thought of his friend and his soon-to-be fiancé being so happy together was unfortunately still a sore spot.

It didn’t matter how hard he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat when they’d kiss in front of him or coo about how exciting the baby was. A kid had never been in his and Tweek’s future, but he’d always hoped they’d be able to find the same sort of happiness on full display in front of him; maybe just enough normalcy in their wild lives to get a nice house and get married and settle down. No more hospitals, no more therapy, just the two of them like any other couple.

  _Clyde: Next thing we’ll know, it’ll be August. I’m going to be an uncle!_  
_Clyde: Not a real uncle. Figurative uncle._  
 _Craig: yeah i get it_  
 _Clyde: Alright, we’re hitting the road now. See you soon!_  
 _Craig: see ya_

Craig carefully tucked his phone into his pocket as he stood from the couch, running his fingers through his messy hair.

There was no backing out now; he might as well get ready to go.

 

* * *

 

_Despite his desperate attempts to get some rest, the beeping of the monitors and discomfort of the chair were keeping Craig wide awake. His head lay against Tweek’s hospital bed, his chair pushed closer than what the nurse had deemed necessary. The blond had drifted to sleep nearly an hour before, one arm upturned with an IV while the other’s fingers were tangled in Craig’s hair. Tweek had known he was worried, and despite what little strength he’d had, he did everything he could to assure Craig that it was going to be fine._

_Things were not fine._

_Craig bit at his lip, trying his best to remain still as to not wake Tweek up. A change in medication had left him too nauseous to keep anything down, and now he’d dropped to just over a hundred pounds. Craig had called the doctor twice over it during the week, but he’d just assured him that new medication took some time to get used to. Neither of them had expected it to get so bad that Tweek would just collapse._

_Tweek suddenly rolled to his side, fingers finally leaving his hair. Craig took it as his cue to sit up, staring blankly at the tiny figure on the bed. He hardly took up any space; if the nurse hadn’t told him not to, he would have gladly climbed in beside him._

_A knock on the door pulled his attention, meeting eyes with a nurse. “We’ve got someone here to see you two,” she said softly, trying her best not to wake Tweek. “Do you want me to send him up?”_

_Craig’s heart skipped a few beats as he gripped at his jacket, mind wandering frantically. “Who?”_

_“We’ve got a Kenny Mccormick, Mr. Tucker.”_

_Craig let out a sigh, a hand against his chest. God, he’d been so nervous. He couldn’t help but feel like one of those times, the nurse would be announcing the arrival of Tweek’s father and he’d have to restrain himself from throwing punches in a hospital ward. “Yeah, he can come up. Just tell him to be quiet.”_

_“I can do that,” the nurse said before slipping out the door again, leaving them in silence. It was only a matter of minutes before a softer knock echoed in the room, Kenny’s freckled face peeking in._

_“Hey,” Craig whispered, giving an exhausted smile._

_Kenny gave him a sympathetic grin right back, sneaking into the room and shutting the door as quietly as he could with one hand. The other held a bouquet of yellow tulips behind his back, which he presented as soon as he stepped closer to the bed. “He asleep?”_

_“Yeah, don’t wake him up,” Craig warned, taking the flowers on Tweek’s behalf. “He needs the rest.”_

_“Speak for yourself,” Kenny teased, pulling up a second chair. “You look dead inside.”_

_“I am dead inside.” Craig let out a small chuckle, allowing Kenny to throw an arm around him in comfort. “This whole thing’s been just another nightmare.”_

_Kenny just squeezed his arm, a soft hum escaping his lips. “Well, at least it’s just that, Tucker. He’ll be home before you know it. Nightmares suck, but at least they always end.”_

 

* * *

 

Craig took a deep breath as he exited his car, checking the time on his phone. He hadn’t seen Token’s car pull up yet, but they were supposed to be arriving soon. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled over meeting at the Red Lobster in Shi-Ti-Pa Town, but he was glad it wasn’t him taking the long drive this time.

The restaurant was quiet when he stepped inside, but he had suspected as much for a Tuesday night. “Can I help you, sir?” a young woman asked as he entered. It took him a moment to register she was speaking to him as he fumbled to put his phone back into his pocket.

“Y-yeah, sorry…” He wished Token would hurry up already. “Um, the rest of us aren’t here yet, but I think there’s a reservation.”

“What name?”

“Token Black, probably.”

The hostess let out a small laugh as she checked the tablet screen on the podium before her. “People give their kids the most unfortunate names,” she muttered. Craig couldn’t help but let out a huff of air in equal amusement. He’d said almost the exact same thing when he’d met his boyfriend in elementary school. _Tweek Tweak._ He knew that his parents were terrible, but the name only added insult to injury. Hell, Tweek didn’t even have a middle name. Just like everything else, they hadn’t bothered to pay attention to him long enough to give him one.

“Token Black, yep, right here,” the hostess said finally, giving him a sweet smile. “Party of six, right?”

Six? Craig quietly counted everyone off in his head. Token, Nichole, Clyde, himself… ah. Jimmy was probably coming with his girlfriend, too. “I think so, yeah.”

“Alright sir, you can take a seat. We’ll call you back when everyone’s here.”

Craig nodded politely before finding a bench, messing with his phone in an attempt to stay patient. God, he hated waiting, especially waiting alone. The seconds seemed to last forever until the clang of the bell above the entrance door and familiar voices jerked him away from his distraction.

“Hey Craig!” Clyde said cheerfully. Following was Token and Nichole, with Jimmy and a completely different girl from the funeral close behind.

“Hey,” Craig said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “I already got us checked in.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” Nichole cooed, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder when he stood up. “That makes it easier.”

“It’s no problem,” he assured her before stepping over to Jimmy to be introduced to the woman, Christine. He made a silent bet that he’d break up with her after two weeks, tops.

The hostess Craig had spoken to before suddenly called their attention, taking them into the main sitting room. There were a few couples near them, but for the most part it was empty as they took their seats at a large table.

“Looks like we’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Craig commented, shifting in his seat. He was glad it wouldn’t be too overwhelming; that was always something he and Tweek had in common. Neither of them particularly liked crowds.

“Yep, looks like it,” Token said, already looking over the menu. “Seriously, the drive made me starving; I can’t wait to actually eat something.”

Clyde didn’t hesitate to bang a fist against the table, the other making a grabby expression towards Nichole. “No, no, no, we gotta hear the news first! I’m _dying_ to know,” he practically whined. Craig let out another half-hearted laugh, the jealous feeling creeping back into his stomach.

“We’re getting there,” Nichole scolded, pointing a finger at him with her usual playful tone. “I’m hungry too. Let’s order and then I’ll open it, okay?”

Clyde let out an obnoxiously exaggerated sigh before sinking down in his chair, eliciting another round of giggles from the table. “Fine, but right after!”

The night continued on as expected with some small talk as they waited for their meals. Clyde was stressing about a writing assignment, Token had some funny stories to tell about his patients and Jimmy was looking forward to working with the Special Olympics kids later in the month. Craig didn’t have much to say; what could he? Anything going on in his own personal life was likely to lead to tears, and he wasn’t in the mood for any of that. The others seemed to understand; there was no mention of Tweek, which Craig was grateful for. The last time they’d all gone out to eat as a group had been their senior year of high school, and he was missing Tweek’s presence more than when he’d been looking at the calendar.

Soon enough, their waitress brought out their meals and it was up to Nichole to fulfil her promise.

“Alright, let’s see it,” Clyde begged, mouth already full of shrimp. “Please? _Pleeeeeeeease?”_

“Alright, alright,” she laughed, pulling a cream envelope from her purse. Craig could practically smell the anticipation in the air as everyone leaned closer, urging her on as she tore the seal. “Here we go,” she said softly, her voice full of anxious excitement. “One, two… three!”

Nichole pulled the contents of the envelope out and tossed it onto the table, her eyes squeezed shut until she heard the gasps. There between baskets of rolls lay an ultrasound photo and a blue piece of paper, the words _it’s a boy_ scrawled in fancy handwriting. The entire room erupted in happy cheering as she threw her hands over her mouth, letting out a squeal of pure joy.

“Holy shit!” Token cried, throwing his arms around her. “I was right! I was _right!”_

“C-congrats, you guys,” Jimmy said, applauding. “I can’t wait to m…meet him.”

Everyone settled back into their seats as Nichole picked up the photo, looking over it with pride. “Oh, he’s so cute,” she whispered, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. One of her fingers traced the outline of the tiny figure, attempting to make out his features. “God, I didn’t even think of any names yet! This really is a surprise.”

Token coughed awkwardly, his shoulders tense. “Uh… that’s not the only surprise tonight,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Ohhhhh shit!” Clyde shouted, bouncing in his seat.  Nichole only furrowed her brow in confusion as Token took a slow breath.

Craig’s excitement suddenly melted away as the scene unfolded in slow motion. Token was now on one knee, pulling a ring from his back pocket as Nichole shrieked with surprise.

It hurt. It hurt it hurt it _hurt_.

The rest of the table was cheering with congratulations, but Craig could only look at the floor, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He should have never come. He should have taken Kenny’s invitation- no, he should have just stayed home all together! It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t _fair._ Tweek should have been sitting at that table with him, clapping along with the rest of their friends. Craig should have been able to nudge him and wink and tease about how he was next.

He should have proposed.

Now he’d never get the chance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had the flu and it knocked me out but woohoo managed a chapter anyway ;u;

_Craig hadn’t expected Tweek home so soon; in fact, when he opened the door to their apartment, he’d been completely unaware of his presence until he found him curled up on the couch. His fingers were tangled in his hair, face buried against the cushions with an arm covering the rest of his head._

_“Hey,” Craig said as softly as he could manage, letting his coat and bag drop to the floor. He hesitated for a moment as he just stared at the blond, afraid to disturb him. When he twitched, he knew he was awake. “I… I didn’t know you were gonna be home before me today,” he finally said. “First day back go okay?”_

_Tweek uncurled slightly from his position. His face was splotchy, eyes stained red from crying. Craig could still see the scars on his arm from the IV; he’d only been home for a few days now._

_“Honey?” Craig pressed, unable to move closer in fear of sparking an outburst. “What’s wrong?” There was a pause as their gaze met, Tweek’s expression completely unreadable._

_“They fired me.”_

_“What?”_

_Hazel eyes darted the other direction as Tweek curled back into a tiny ball, finger winding tighter around his hair with a sharp yank. “They fired me,” he said again, grating his teeth in frustration. His fingernails were short, but they were still pressing dangerously hard into his scalp._

_Craig forced his body to move, dragging his feet towards the couch and sitting down beside him. He gently placed a hand against the small of Tweek’s back in an attempt to comfort him, careful not to push his luck with physical contact. His hand took up far too much space against his bony spine. “Baby, I don’t understand. I thought you said it was going good?”_

_Tweek let out another sound, a mix between a whine and a low growl as he curled further into himself. He didn’t push Craig away, though. His hands were too busy pulling at his hair. “It was,” he sobbed, the aggression in his voice building. “It was quiet and calm and I just had to put the books away. I loved it, I fucking loved it there and now it’s ruined because I had to go to the FUCKING hospital again!” He was suddenly pounding his fist against his forehead, the other pulling hard enough on his hair to make him scream. “I CAN’T EVEN KEEP ONE FUCKING JOB!”_

_“Hey, hey!” Craig was suddenly shouting. The therapist had told him time and time again to avoid grabbing at Tweek during an outburst, but he couldn’t help lunging forward to grasp at Tweek’s wrists. “Don’t do that, don’t do that, please, you know better,” he begged as he pulled them away from his face, chest swelling with pain at Tweek’s betrayed expression. It wasn’t like he could fight back in his weakened state; he just sunk pathetically into the couch again, limp and silent like a rag doll._

_“Let go,” Tweek finally said, voice hardly audible._

_Craig quickly released his grip, scrambling back to his spot on the couch. “I’m sorry.” God, he just wanted to cry. He’d never hurt him on purpose; his hands just happened to move faster than his mouth. He was selfish. It wasn’t what Tweek needed._

_There were a few moments of silence as each sat on their respective area of the couch. “Craig?” Tweek finally whispered again, sitting upright just enough so his head could lean against the other’s shoulder._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Talk to me.”_

_There was another pause as Craig took a shaking breath, unable to will himself to turn enough and make eye contact. Instead he pressed his palms into his cheekbones, avoiding it all together. Now was not to shut down, not when Tweek needed him, but he couldn’t help it. Sometimes words just would not come._

_“That’s okay,” Tweek finally said, his voice much calmer than before. It didn’t matter how bad things were getting; the second Craig was feeling vulnerable, it was as if nothing else mattered. Tweek’s long, thin limbs were suddenly around his boyfriend’s middle, practically climbing into his lap. “I’ll give you what you need, and when you’re ready you can give me what I need, yeah?”_

_Craig just nodded, holding him close as the tears came silently down his cheeks. So many people had asked him time and time again how he’d managed to stay with Tweek for so long. None of them could understand that Craig depended on Tweek just as much as Tweek depended on Craig. It was always a two way street; it was always mutual._

_“I’m sorry,” Craig finally said, his face burying into soft blond hair. “I’m really sorry.”_

_Tweek squeezed tighter, letting out a sigh. “You’re just trying to help.”_

_There was a bit longer of a pause as Craig collected himself, fingers tracing patterns against Tweek’s back. He forced himself to focus on the topic at hand, slowly pulling himself back into a verbal state. “Tell me about what happened?”_

_Tweek shook his head for a moment, an odd laugh escaping his lips. “They said I missed too many days, that’s all. Not that I was doing a bad job or anything, I just missed a lot.”_

_“I called them at the hospital,” Craig said in disbelief. “They told me it was fine, to take all the time you needed.”_

_“I guess not.” Tweek settled against Craig’s chest, eyes closing._

_“And…and how does that make you feel?”_

_Tweek just let out another giggle, this time for real. His head lifted back up enough to give him a kiss. “You never change,” he teased, their foreheads pressing together in affection. It made Craig laugh right back. “I was upset… and confused. And angry. But now it’s a little better.”_

_Craig could only kiss him back through his awkward sniffles, a smile creeping onto his face. “That’s good. You’ll find another job, sunshine.” Now it was Tweek’s turn to giggle at the familiar pet name. “Things always get better, don’t they?”_

_“Yeah,” Tweek said as he settled down again, content despite the fingers curling back into his hair. “Things always get better.”_

 

* * *

 

“Craig, honey, I’m just asking for this one favor.”

Craig lay flopped against the living room couch, his phone pressed to his ear as he stared blankly at the ceiling. It seemed like it was all he did lately; other than going to work or driving to Denver, there wasn’t much else to do but sulk around at home. He’d hardly even had Kenny to fall back on ever since their argument over the phone. Kenny had claimed it was fine, but there was still awkwardness about their conversations. They’d finally been tossing around the idea of getting drinks that weekend, but now this was potentially throwing a wrench in his plans.

“Craig?”

His mother’s voice on the other end forced him to focus, blinking the haze from his eyes. He seemed to zone out a lot lately. “Yeah?”

“Can Tricia stay for the weekend or not?”

Craig rolled his eyes, considering his options. He really did love his sister, but being around people for more than a few hours was always exhausting. “She’s almost an adult, she can stay at home by herself you know.” It really sounded like his mother was just trying to pull him out of his depressed (although he still insisted he was not) state. It wasn’t about Tricia. It was about Craig.

“I _know_ ,” Laura said, the sound of her nails tapping against her phone causing Craig to grimace. “But you know she doesn’t like to be there alone, and-”

“It would be good for me, I know, I know,” he finished for her, perfectly aware of her plan. “Fine, you win.” He was so sure his mom was grinning and probably giving his sister a thumbs up right about now.

“Sounds great, honey, thank you for taking one for the team. I’ll drive her up in a few hours, alright?”

“Yeah. See ya later.” Craig let the phone drop beside him, allowing his mother to hang up first. He bet she didn’t even have a business trip to go on; it was probably just an elaborate ploy to get him to spend time with his sister. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was maybe just a little bit glad to have someone visit. Nobody had come over since the funeral.

To be honest, nobody had come over even _before_ that, except for…

Craig guiltily looked towards his phone, knowing that he’d have to text Kenny and cancel another potential meet-up. God, if he wasn’t pissed at him before, he was going to be now. Craig figured he might as well text him sooner than later; better to get his cry in before his sister arrived to know it had even happened.

 _Craig: god im sorry for flakin again but uhhhhhh_  
_Craig: so my mom has a business trip this weekend i guess and tricia is gonna be alone so_  
 _Craig: shes sending her up for the weekend and i cant exactly take a 17 y/o to the bar lol_

God that sounded so fake.

 _Craig: im bein serious tho im not trying to like_  
_Craig: brush you off i learned from my mistake the other day_  
 _Craig: i pulled a dick move and im sorry_  
 _Craig: so_  
 _Craig: is that fine_

Craig let his phone rest against his lap as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He’d never been good with words; there were either too few or too many and they never came out the way he wanted. Texting was easier, but not by much. He still sounded like an idiot.

_Ken: nah thats fine because guess what  
Ken: ive got a date :) so no problem this boys got other stuff to focus on_

Craig’s eyes nearly popped from the sockets in surprise. Kenny, as far as he’d been aware, hadn’t been in a relationship for years. He’d been too focused on work and his sister to even bother.

 _Craig: oh?????????_  
_Craig: how_  
 _Craig: who*_  
 _Craig: but also how_  
 _Ken: secret :)_  
 _Craig: im serious_  
 _Ken: youll find out when you find out just know its all fine and good and im happy about it_  
 _Ken: that satisfy you_  
 _Craig: not really but whatever you dont owe me i guess_  
 _Craig: but if i knew id be pretty satisfied_  
 _Craig: dont deny me satisfaction mccormick_  
 _Ken: kinky_  
 _Craig: shut the fucckkkking_  
 _Ken: but for real ill tell you later_

Craig let his phone drop to the couch for the second time, forcing himself from his seat. He didn’t have time to play twenty questions with Kenny over something as trivial as a date. It was none of his business anyway who Kenny hooked up with; what he needed to actually focus on what tidying up a bit before his mom and sister arrived.

There hadn’t been a whole lot of cleanup lately.

Craig wasn’t feeling up to the exertion of energy required for the whole apartment, so he settled on just getting the kitchen taken care of and praying the rest would follow suit. Despite his best efforts after the funeral to take care of anything he didn’t need to keep around, there were still several of Tweek’s belongings strewn about that he hadn’t found the willpower to deal with yet. The coffee maker on the counter had been collecting dust for just over a month and a half now. Craig could never bring himself to take a sip of the same poison that had helped lead to Tweek’s downfall.

Maybe his mother would want it. Craig set it aside near the front door so he wouldn’t forget; not that he had that much time. He’d barely gotten through a load of dishes when the doorbell rang.

“ _Coming_ ,” he groaned, hoping his mother wouldn’t attempt to bring up the remaining mess. He hurried to the door anyway, opening it.

“Hey,” Laura greeted with a warm smile, inviting herself in with Tricia following close behind. It was clear she noticed the disaster state his home was in, but she said nothing. Craig wasn’t sure if it was out of sympathy or embarrassment.

Tricia outright dropped her wheeled bag onto the floor, hands against her hips as she looked around. “Well. My guess is cleaning wasn’t your job?”

“Tricia!” her mother scolded immediately, but Craig couldn’t help a nervous laugh. He could always count on his sister to be as blunt as he was.

“No,” he corrected, “we both did it together.” He couldn’t help but notice a black duffel back still over his sister’s shoulder. Knowing her, she would have usually just thrown it to the floor. “What’s that?”

Tricia only grinned, sliding it gently to the floor and unzipping the mesh top. “Surprise!” she giggled as the head of a familiar looking guinea pig peeked out from inside. It was the same guinea pig Craig had entrusted her with when he’d moved out of the house.

“Shit,” Craig muttered, quickly nudging his mother aside to shut the door. “If my doorman finds out you brought her here, I’m gonna get in trouble!” The no pets policy had left him devastated, but it was the only apartment he and Tweek could afford, and they’d desperately needed an out.

“Mocha missed you though,” she teased, helping the small animal climb out of the bag. “Don’t worry, I brought her food and stuff so she’s gonna be fine. I thought it would cheer you up a little.”

Despite his shock, Craig couldn’t help picking his pet up and holding her close to his chest. He really _had_ missed her; after Stripe the fourth had passed on, he and Tweek had bought her together the summer of their senior year. Tweek thought her name would be funny, and Craig thought it was cute he was so insistent, so his tradition of “Stripe” was tossed out the window. It was bittersweet without her other owner there to hold her, but Craig appreciated it just the same. “Thanks, Tricia,” he sighed, kissing Mocha on her little head before setting her back down on the carpet. “You keep an eye on her, though. If she makes a mess it’s just damning evidence.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” she sighed, following Mocha along the floor towards the living room, leaving Craig alone with his mother.

“You two have fun,” Laura said, giving Craig an awkward pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening to pick her up, okay?”

Craig just gave her a weak smile before nodding. Unable to help himself he threw his arms around her, hugging tightly for just a moment. “See ya later then.”

Laura almost seemed stunned by his movement, hugging him just long enough for Craig to feel satisfied. “Alright, call me if you need anything.” She was out the door with a little wave, leaving Craig’s apartment a little less empty than when she’d come.

“Just so you know,” Tricia called from the living room, now cross legged on the floor, “there’s no business trip.” Craig hadn’t noticed she was chewing gum, but now the loud popping seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

“I could have told you that,” he sighed, walking over to join her. Mocha was squeaking on the floor, exploring the new environment. “I knew from the second she called.”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell.” She ran a hand through her short, vibrant hair, brushing the bangs from her face. “I just thought you should know, though.”

“Doesn’t really matter now that you’re here, huh?” Craig teased anyway, giving her a nudge. When they were little he’d usually pull on her pigtail instead, but now there wasn’t enough hair to do that. Instead he just gave her a pat on her head. “It’s fine though. It’s been pretty lonely here.”

Tricia opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.

“ _What_ ,” Craig pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“I was just gonna say I could tell,” Tricia said, shrugging her shoulders as she blew a bubble with her gum. Her eyes scanned the space observantly, taking it all in. Most the place was some degree of dusty, various blankets and pillows covering the couch. Craig really hadn’t even made it to his own bed most nights; it was hard to sleep in it by himself. An empty canvas and a few bottles of paint were tucked between the arm of the couch and the side table, empty plates scattered around the lamp on top. The coffee maker was still sitting by the door, forgotten despite Craig’s attempt to remember. “I mean, I’m here now though. I can help?”

Craig squeezed his eyes shut tightly, unsure of how to respond. He’d tried several times during his bouts of loneliness to deal with the apartment, but it never seemed to work. It was both comforting and painful to walk into a room that was practically a time capsule from a happier part of his life.

“Craig. You gonna let me help or what?”

Mocha climbed into his lap, forcing a smile from his lips. “Okay,” he said, still unsure. Maybe motivation from another person would get his ass in gear. “Just… just be careful with stuff, okay? Don’t break my shit.”

Tricia was already scrambling across the floor towards the side table, yanking out the canvas. “Okay, okay, but first I wanna know what _this_ is,” she admitted. Brushes that had been trapped with it went flying, knocking over the sealed bottles of paint.

“That’s Tweek’s,” Craig said defensively, unable to help crossing his arms. “I said be careful.”

Tricia laid it flat on the floor, fingers running down the textured front. Her eyes went back and forth from it to the similarly shaped ones hanging above the couch. They were decorated with abstract shapes in vibrant colors. “He paint them?”

“Yeah. Therapist suggested it after he lost his job at the library in November to help him cope.” It was the last job Tweek had actually had; nobody after that would take him on. “He liked it a lot actually. Said it helped him vent. He even sold a couple at this swap meet thing we went to a few months ago. He kept telling me he found his calling.” The memory made him smile; he could have told Tweek that from the moment they’d met. He’d always been drawn to the arts, whether it be acting or playing the piano or his recent discovery of painting.

Tricia was grabbing for the brushes now, thumbing the stiff bristles. “We should paint something,” she suggested.

If it weren’t for the odd look on her face, Craig probably would have scolded her for her being insesitive. She wasn’t trying to be rude or ignore Craig’s trauma; no, she was just trying to cope as much as he was.

She missed him too.

“…Maybe?” he finally sighed, holding out his hand to her for a brush. “I mean, it’s just gonna go to waste anyway. He wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” Tweek hated when things went unused.

Tricia handed him a couple of different brushes before heading to the kitchen, searching through the cabinets until she came back with a clean plate. “He use these for the paints?”

“Actually,” Craig recalled, “he’d just plop it directly onto the canvas and somehow make it work. I dunno how he did it.” He’d spread a few of the newspapers collecting near the front door on the floor just to be safe, the canvas sitting neatly on top. “But I guess a plate works too. Just wash it really well when you’re done with it, I don’t want to be eating lead.”

She giggled, squirting a bit of each color onto the dish. Soon an array of different pigments were available for choice, all practically neon in tint. Tweek didn’t like boring colors. The yellow bottle had nearly been empty. “Now…we create art.”

Tricia nearly immediately jumped in, attempting to replicate Tweek’s organized but erratic layout while Craig just stared, unsure how to even begin. Tweek always urged him to try new things though, and the thought of him was enough to push him to press the paintbrush into a glob of yellow and onto the canvas. He felt his tendency to hyper-focus take over as he began to carefully make lines and shapes. He didn’t even notice Tricia stand up and begin to pace around the room, Mocha squeaking and following behind her.

“What’s this?” she asked suddenly, picking up a card decorated with little footprints off the counter.

Craig dared to break his concentration to glance up, tongue just barely poking out from his lips. “Don’t ruin that, I didn’t put it on the calendar yet.”

“What _is_ it?” Tricia asked again, flipping it open despite Craig’s instructions. “ _Token and Nichole Black’s baby shower_ , huh? I didn’t know Nichole was pregnant.” She paused. “Actually, didn’t know she was married either.”

“Engaged,” Craig corrected bitterly, letting his eyes drop back down the canvas. He wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of that night. The rest of dinner had been absolute hell to sit through. “I’m going next weekend though.”

Tricia set it back down on the counter, chewing obnoxiously on her gum as she continued to tidy up. Again, Craig tuned her out as he painted. Part of him had begun to wish he’d joined Tweek sooner; he now understood just how calming it was. In no time at all he felt satisfied enough to sit up, setting the brush against the plate. It wasn’t as good as the masterpieces hanging on the wall, but it was something.

“It’s pretty,” his sister commented, sitting back down beside him. Mocha had nestled herself in Craig’s lap again, resting quietly.

“Yeah,” Craig said, unable to help a prideful smile creeping onto his face. “You think he would have liked it?”

Tricia could only grin back at him. “I think he’d be real proud.”


	7. Chapter 7

_“All done?”_

_Tweek seemed to perk up immediately at the sound of Craig’s voice, nearly sprinting across the waiting room floor. “Yeah,” he breathed, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders._

_Therapy sucked._

_Being with Craig was better._

_“You’re good to go, Mr. Tweak,” his doctor called from across the room, albeit a little too late for Tweek’s haste. His arms were crossed over his chest, back leaning against the push level on the door to prop it open. “I’ll see you next week, alright?”_

_“Yeah,” Tweek said again, this time directed just barely over his shoulder. He’d already taken his coat from Craig’s arms and thrown it over his shoulders, not even bothering to get the arms in the holes. “See you next week… let’s go?” Fingers were against Craig’s arm, tugging at his sleeve._

_Craig nodded before fumbling in his pocket, attempting to find his keys. He should have known by now to have everything together the second the clock hit four-thirty; when it was time to go, it was time to go. “Hey, honey, hold on,” he begged, a hand pressing to the blond’s shoulder._

_“What?” Tweek asked, eyes going a bit wide at the sudden halt. He thought he had made his intentions perfectly clear._

_There was a pause as Craig finally fished out his car keys, holding them up by the red racer keychain. Their eyes met in silent communication before he deposited them into one of Tweek’s freckled hands. “Get the car warmed up for me, yeah?”_

_Tweek didn’t say anything for a moment, just biting at the peeling skin on his lips until it threatened to bleed again. “Okay,” he said cautiously, curling his fingers around the little red plastic car and color-coded keys before hurrying the other direction._

_The doctor was still standing by the entrance to the main clinic, arms crossed, eyebrows raised as Craig  met his gaze. “Confidentiality, Mr. Tucker,” he reminded playfully, a smirk on his face._

_“He said it was fine for you to talk with me,” Craig corrected, forcing himself to return the smile despite being unable to find anything humorous. Tweek was probably already wondering where he was; this didn’t need to take any more time than it had to. “He signed the paperwork.”_

_“I’m just teasing you,” the doctor said anyway, waving him closer. Craig obliged, stepping towards the door. “What can I help you with?”_

_“I just wanna know how he’s doing,” Craig admitted, letting his shoulder rest against the doorframe. “Anything come up? I mean I know I need to be patient with all this but… how’s he taking it?”_

_The doctor adjusted his glasses, shrugging his shoulders. “He seems to be warming up to me pretty well. Nothing’s concerning in terms of behavior. The mood shifts are going to be normal; this is the first big step down in milligrams for him. It took us a few months to get here, and it’s gonna take a few more months until the next one depending on how things continue. Methadone is a hard one to wean, we’ve discussed this.”_

_Craig could only nod, mimicking the doctor’s cross-armed stance. “I know, I know. I mean other things though.”_

_“Like?”_

_A huff. “Like… family stuff. Is he finally opening up about his dad or what?”_

_The doctor licked his lips, giving a slight beckoning wave as he stepped out of the doorway. Craig followed suit, the barrier between the clinic and the waiting room closing behind them. With the more private setting of the hospital hallways, Tweek’s therapist could speak. “He’s still very insistent that the relationship they had was perfectly fine.”_

_Craig blinked slowly, sucking in his cheeks in mild annoyance. “You’re kidding,” he sighed in disbelief. There was a pop as he released the pressure, blowing out through his nose. “You really are kidding, aren’t you?”_

_“I’m afraid not, Mr. Tucker.”_

_He let out another sigh, fingers pressing to his temple. “Even though he emotionally abused him?”_

_Nod._

_“Even though he sent him on drug runs since he was six?”_

_Nod._

_Craig couldn’t help raising his voice. “He sees nothing wrong with locking your kid in the backroom of a shop for some cheap labor? For feeding him drugged coffee? For all the panic attacks and meltdowns and fucking distress he caused? What about-”_

_“Mr. Tucker,” The doctor warned, a hand suddenly against the younger man’s shoulders. Craig felt himself relax immediately, expression softening as his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t want to look at the doctor while he was spoken to. “Mr. Tucker, I know you’re frustrated, but we’ve gone over this. He’s only been in therapy for a little over two months at this point, right? It’s going to take a lot of time.”_

_Craig just nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Time,” he scoffed quietly._

_“Lots. And. Lots. Of. Time.” The doctor gave him a firm pat before retracting his hand, offering a sympathetic smile. “Abuse is sometimes hard to face. When he’s ready, he’ll be ready, alright? For now we let him cope with the changes going on and hope he’ll adjust.”_

_Craig could only nod again, unable to look up. “Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, turning towards the exit. Tweek was probably getting anxious by now. “Um…thanks for talking.”_

_“Feel free to call me if you need anything,” the doctor said, but Craig was already back in the lobby, heading towards the front door. He did his best to put in a happier expression as he approached the car._

_“You took forever,” Tweek chided as he finally climbed into the driver’s seat. It was nothing short of toasty inside._

_“Sorry, baby,” Craig apologized, forcing another smile as he pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “Let’s get you home.” With that, he pulled out of the parking lot, eyes unfocused as he sped towards their apartment._

_It was hard not to let his mind race._

 

* * *

 

Waking up in his own bed for the first time in over a week was jarring, to say the least.

Craig let out an unhappy groan as he rolled to his side, the sun just high enough to shine directly into his eyes. Tricia had slept on the couch, leaving him to lie on his half of the otherwise empty queen bed. Their spring cleaning (and brief painting session) hadn’t gotten very far after Craig chickened out, but he was still exhausted; it was always a struggle to force himself up and out the bedroom door.

Tricia was fast asleep when Craig entered the living room. The TV was still on from their earlier movie binge, fuzzy static sending dancing light across his sister’s sleeping face. Out of courtesy he picked the remote up off the side table and turned it off. He’d let her sleep a bit longer; Tricia never was a morning person.

Little squeaks from the duffle bag on the floor pulled Craig’s attention as Mocha’s head peeked out, crying for attention. Unable to help himself he scooped up the small animal and carried her with him towards the kitchen. He missed having a pet. Maybe there could be some way to convince his landlord to allow it.  “Good girl, good girl,” he cooed as he set her on the counter, patting her on the head. Despite his fear, she hadn’t made a mess anywhere the entire weekend. “You’re probably hungry too.”

Mocha seemed uninterested in his words, but Craig went to the fridge anyway, digging through the vegetable bin. He took a handful of baby carrots from the bag before slamming the door, popping a few in his mouth and dumping the rest on the counter for the guinea pig. She immediately began to nibble.

“He used to eat like you, ya know,” Craig said softly, resting a hand against his cheek. Mocha didn’t answer, but it helped to talk to her anyway. “I’d tease him about how he’d always take teeny tiny bites of things. It took forever to get down, but I never complained. I just wanted him to eat _something._ ” Baby carrots had always been on hand for rough eating days.

Craig left Mocha to her nibbling as he reached for the cabinet above the sink, pulling out two glasses and filling them with water. By habit he set one near the barstool, an accumulation of untouched pill bottles laying nearby. The other he downed quickly before wiping at his mouth. It didn’t matter how many yellow crosses decorated his calendar; morning routines never changed. He half expected his boyfriend to come stumbling into the room, blankets around his shoulders before plopping down on the stool and swallowing a handful of pills in one gulp. Craig never understood how he could manage; just one pill was too many for himself to get down, let alone four.

Mocha wheeked quietly, reminding him of reality.

Craig couldn’t help pressing his fingertips against his eyelids, groaning. God, he really, really missed him. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t, but every new morning that passed just seemed to amplify it. Things were supposed to get better, not worse. He was supposed to feel better. It should have been better by now, right? The beginnings of tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

It was just an empty house and an empty stool and an empty hole in his chest. He missed him, he missed him, _he missed him._

“Morning.”

Tricia’s voice made Craig jump, eyes darting towards the doorway to find his sister groggily staring back at him. He didn’t even bother to hide the disappointment in his eyes he stared at her. Despite everything, he still wished it would have been his boyfriend standing there instead. “Morning,” Craig finally sighed, eyes darting down to Mocha as she finished the last of her carrots.

“You look happy to see me,” she replied sarcastically, clearly concerned with his greeting. “What’s your deal?”

Craig didn’t say anything, eyes still stuck on the small animal sitting on his counter. “Tired,” he admitted. It wasn’t a false statement, but it wasn’t the full answer. It was none of her business anyway. “I’ll make breakfast though.”

Tricia seemed unimpressed, rolling her eyes. “Me too, but okay I guess.” She slid into one of the two empty barstools, staring silently at the glass of water in front of her.

Craig could only hope she wouldn’t ask. “Waffles?”

“Sure.”

“It’s just the garbage frozen kind,” he admitted, pulling the box from the ice box. He pulled out two for each of them and dropped them in the toaster, pressing the levers down as dramatically as he could muster in an attempt to make her laugh.

 Tricia didn’t say anything as she watched, fingers curling and uncurling against the cold countertop. “You’re either expecting a ghost or going crazy, and I don’t wanna know which,” she finally said, attention on the glass again. She pressed her index finger against the cap of one of the pill bottles, twirling it against the counter unceremoniously.

Craig couldn’t tell if she was really being serious or not. “Shh,” he scolded, scooping Mocha up off the counter and holding her close to his chest. She squirmed against him as he sat in the empty stool beside his sister. “Just leave it there, okay? _Please?_ Just give me this one thing.” One of his hands roughly clapped on top of the one spinning the prescription bottle, giving a look of warning. “Seriously. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

Tricia licked her bottom lip before biting on it, giving him a look of bitter acceptance. “You never do.”

Craig lifted his hand sympathetically, still cradling Mocha in the other.

The room was quiet for a moment outside of the guinea pig’s squeaks and the ticking of the toaster. “Mom texted this morning,” Tricia said quietly, the pads of her fingers tapping against the countertop. “She said, uh… she’s home from that _business trip_ if you want her to come get me.”

Craig’s expression almost immediately dropped. “Hey, hey… Trish, no,” he corrected, immediately using his free arm to pull her into an awkward hug. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to leave. I’m not mad at you.” She didn’t reject the hug, but she didn’t say anything either. “I’m just upset, okay? It’s not you. It’s never you.” He’d used those exact words time and time again for a very different person in very different situations.

Tricia only let out a shaking breath, eyes closed as she let her weight fall against him. “I know it’s not me- it’s never about me! That’s the fucking problem,” she said suddenly, aggression in her voice. “It’s just hard to talk to you lately. You either go in circles or you won’t say anything at all and it _sucks_. It sucks, okay? I just wanted to spend time with you again but everything is just about _him_ and that _he’s_ gone. It’s all you talk about.” He could hear the beginning of tears as her face pressed into his sweatshirt. “I hate it too, god, I wish he wasn’t but he _is_ and…”

The waffles popped in the toaster, but Craig made no move to retrieve them. Instead he just held her close, unsure what else to say. He felt like he was shutting down again as he stared blankly at the wall.

“So…just ‘cause you feel lost doesn’t mean you should ignore everyone else,” Tricia finally finished, sniffling as she raised her head. “I just wanted to help, but you wouldn’t even let me do that.”

Craig grimaced, remembering their failed attempt at tidying up. She’d tried so hard to get him motivated, but he’d eventually just had another shut down. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I’m not saying you have to get over it or anything. Just don’t get stuck. You always get stuck.”

“I always get stuck,” he echoed softly, feeling his body suddenly release its tension. He didn’t want to feel trapped by his grief anymore. “Trish?”

“Yeah?” she asked quietly, daring eye contact.

Craig didn’t break it. “Um… after breakfast, can we try again? Cleaning up, I mean.”

His sister smiled weakly through her leftover tears, playfully bumping her head against his shoulder again. “Yeah, I guess so,” she laughed, a hand rubbing at her cheek. “See, maybe we’re getting somewhere. Just gotta take those baby steps.”

Craig couldn’t help smiling, the familiarity of the phrase bringing him a little comfort. “Baby steps, yeah.”

She was right; even if it took time, it was better to keep pushing forward.

 

* * *

 

 “You’ve been holding off all fuckin’ week, Mccormick, are you gonna spill the beans or what?” Craig couldn’t believe it was already Friday again; tomorrow was the baby shower and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to buy a gift yet.

Kenny was hunched over a car, brushing his long hair from his face with his forearm every other minute. Despite Craig’s persistent asking, he had refused to give any information about his mystery date. “I dunno if I wanna tell you,” he teased, showing off his tooth gap with the widest of grins.

“It’s probably not even someone that special,” Craig sighed, biting at his lip as he fiddled with his wrench. “I bet you’re just drawing this out to get back at me. It’s been like, three weeks, you know.”

Kenny looked offended. “It’s someone _very_ special,” he retorted, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll be honest, I was gonna wait until you started throwing out names.”

“That’s a shitty way to play _guess who_ ,” Craig muttered, delving into the hood of an adjacent car. If Kenny wanted to play, he’d bite. It was slow for a Friday. There was time to kill. “Jeez… is it someone who still lives in Park?”

“Yeah,” Kenny admitted.

Craig blinked a few times, mentally eliminating a few candidates. “Damn, I was gonna say Broflovski, but he’s out of the question now.”

Kenny snickered. “God, I _wish_ I could tap that. You don’t know what it’s like to be crushin’ on someone only to find out he’s _straight._ ”

Craig could only roll his eyes; he didn’t care if Tweek had been his one and only since fourth grade. He’d been happy enough, there was no reason to wish otherwise. “Sorry you get boners for the unattainable.”

Kenny shook his head, giggling. “Come oooooon, guess for real.”

“Uh… Jason White?”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “I may be white trash, but I don’t dive for garbage. _No way.”_

Craig stifled a laugh. “I don’t think he’d be interested, anyway- at least not with his dad around. How about Scott?”

“Malkinson?”

“Yeah.”

Another headshake. “He’s cute though, I’ll give you that.”

“Red? Annie?”

“Nope and nope.”

Dammit. Craig was nearly out of guesses. Unless it was someone much older or younger than they were, he hadn’t a clue. “I give up,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Come on, just tell me!”

Kenny took a deep breath, standing up straight and making direct eye contact. “Stotch,” he admitted, the smile creeping onto his face.

Craig blinked twice. “Butters?”

There was a pause as Kenny shifted, unsure how to answer. “Yeah, but also no.”

“No?”

“Her dad doesn’t like her tellin’ people, but remember that nickname we gave her in elementary school? She’s Marjorine now.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Craig muttered stupidly, smacking a hand to his forehead. That made sense. “I didn’t know about, uh… that?”

“Not a lot of people do. Again, her dad’s shit.” The hood of the car came down loudly, echoing in the garage. Kenny didn’t look very happy anymore. “I didn’t really talk to her much since I left high school, but I guess the, ahem, _situation_ at home got worse since then. Ran into her at the store a few weeks ago and we reconnected. I mean, I had a crush in elementary school, but jeez… she’s real pretty now.”

Craig couldn’t help giving a sympathetic smile, the familiar ache in his chest. He felt happy for the two of them, but it was still bittersweet. Tricia’s words from earlier that week echoed in his mind though, so he kept it to himself. “I bet she’s great,” he said.

“Yeah,” Kenny sighed wistfully, resting his elbow against the hood of the finished car. “I’ve wanted outta here for a while, but I think this gives me new motivation, ya feel? I just want her to feel safer so she can buy all the pretty lil dresses she wants and nobody will take them from her. I’ll get her and Karen and skip the fuck _out_.”

God, was that a familiar feeling. He’d said something similar to his own boyfriend their senior year when he’d already started hunting for apartments. _It’ll just be you and me, no more drugs or coffee or bad parents. You’re gonna be safe and we’ll be happy._ “Well, with all my shifts you picked up, I’d imagine you’ve got some money put away.”

Kenny only laughed, giving him a wink. “Guess it’s me owing you after all,” he teased. “She’s thinking about moving in with me and Karen this weekend, just to get her away from her dad. I mean, our place is pretty garbage, but it’s better than his yelling. You wanna come meet her?”

Craig bit at his lip. It had been years since he’d seen her, and even in highschool they’d barely talked. “Well, Saturday I’m going to that baby shower, but… maybe Sunday?”

“Sounds fine,” Kenny said, clearly in a better mood.

Their conversation left them both satisfied and on much better terms than they had been at the start of the day. Before Craig knew it, it was time to clock out and head home. He still hadn’t gotten a gift for Nichole and Token yet, so he decided it would be best to get it over with instead of having to leave early the next morning. It wasn’t like Kmart was a long drive.

_What the hell do you get for a baby shower anyway?_

Craig wasn’t even sure what he was looking for as he stepped into the store, grabbing a cart just in case. He was shocked the Kmart was still open; as far as he knew, most the chain had already gone out of business. Maybe it was just the fact that South Park had such limited options. If there were anywhere else to go, people would _probably_ be going.

With a sigh he pushed his cart down the aisles, scanning each one for some sort of ideas. There were still a good five months until the baby would be arriving, so he didn’t understand why they were throwing the party so soon. Maybe it was because of the wedding planning. Were baby showers that hard to deal with that they wanted to get it out of the way?

God was Craig glad he was never going to be a parent.

“Infant shit,” he muttered suddenly, having found the right aisle. It wasn’t much, but a selection of toys and products scattered the shelves. He immediately gravitated towards the blue colored merchandise. It was a boy. They probably wanted something boy-ish. Did Token care about that sort of stuff?

It was probably best to play it safe.

Craig grabbed a rattle and tossed it into the cart, pushing forward. Just in front of him was a rack of the smallest onesies he’d ever seen, one in particular catching his attention. “ _Hoooooly_ shit,” he practically laughed, unable to help grabbing at it. The whole thing was decorated with stars, a rocket ship across the butt. There was no way he could resist. Token’s baby was gonna be a spaceman, and he was gonna _like it._

He tossed it into the cart as well, feeling satisfied with his choices. Now all he needed was something to put it in. He was sure he’d seen a sign for wrapping paper just a few aisles over. With a smile on his face he pushed the cart that direction, only to have his expression dissipate immediately upon entering.

Hellen was staring him down between racks of thank-you cards.

“Goddammit,” Craig muttered, frozen in place. He didn’t want to talk to her, not since his run-in at Whole Foods. Instead he dropped his eyes and walked as cautious as possible towards a bin of wrapping paper tubes, grabbing the closet one and tossing it in the cart. _Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me._ Just as soon as he’d entered, he turned to leave.

“Woah there, son, no need to rush out,” a familiar voice said. Craig practically jumped, turning quickly to find Richard standing beside him. “No hello?”

Craig wished he could have been just a little younger. Then it would have been more socially acceptable to kick Richard in the shin and run off screaming about stranger danger. “I don’t owe you shit,” he practically growled, fingers gripping the cart’s handle with more vigor than necessary as he attempted to push away. He should have known the run in at Whole Foods was a one-time event. The bastard was _always_ nearby his wife. “I’ve gotta go-”

Richard’s hand was suddenly on the other end of the metal basket, forcing it to stop. “I said to _wait_ ,” he said, his voice still just as calm as before. His foot kicked out in front of one of the wheels. “Just wanted to know how you were doing, there’s no reason to skedaddle off.”

Craig wasn’t sure if he should abandon his cart and take off the other direction or run him over. “And I said to get out of my _fucking way,_ ” he snapped, forcing a sarcastic smile. “I was fine before you got here.”

“No need to be so rude, son.” Richard didn’t let up, peering into the basket. “Hellen said she saw you last month and you chatted with _her._ You care about your old man, don’t you?”

Craig took a slow breath. “Your garbage manipulative _whatever_ may have worked on Tweek, but not on me,” he growled, yanking the cart backwards just enough to force Richard to let go. “If you come near me again, I’m getting a restraining order.” With that he practically ran out of the aisle towards the checkout, not even bothering to look behind him.

Something about the pure amusement on Richard’s face had left him feeling sick to his stomach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyyyyy guysssssss  
> these last few weeks have been hell, sorry for the long wait! <3

_“I don’t want to go.”_

_Craig had sat through his mother’s cooing as she’d fixed his tie. He’d let her take five hundred pictures at the foot of the stairs, Tweek’s trembling body pulled close to his chest. He’d smiled as wide as he could with his mouth full of braces. Tweek his kissed his cheek on their way out the front door._

_“Why not?”_

_Craig didn’t know why he’d suddenly changed his mind. Tweek had been so excited for prom, excited enough to button his shirt properly and leave his soft curls unbrushed. Now those beautiful blond locks were tickling his nose as Tweek laid against him in comfort, limbs wrapped around his middle like a koala. Both their bodies were sprawled across the backseats of Craig’s shitty old car, lungs suffocating in the stale air. The vibrations from the nearby gym thumped in time with his heartbeat. It wouldn’t take much to stand up and join the celebration, but something was holding Craig back._

_“Craaaaaaaig,” Tweek sing-songed, their lips meeting briefly as he shifted to look him in the eyes. “Talk to me?”_

_Craig hummed again, eyes squeezing shut. He didn’t want to talk, but Tweek’s voice always managed to coax something out of him. “Because it’s loud and stupid,” he admitted. “I don’t wanna be in a room with a billion other people doing things I don’t even like.” He didn’t want them to talk to him. He didn’t want them to stare at him as he entered. He didn’t like attention. He didn’t like crowds._

_Tweek gave a sympathetic smile, pressing another few kisses along his jawline. “I don’t wanna deal with it either,” he admitted, long eyelashes batting against Craig’s cheek. “I just really wanted to spend time with you is all.”_

_There was another pause as Craig’s hands dipped lower, a thumb rubbing against Tweek’s hip. Their closeness was suddenly amplified by the small size of the car. “We can spend time without going to a dumb dance, you know,” he offered, unable to help the smile creeping onto his face. “We can just stay here?”_

_Tweek ran a hand through Craig’s neatly combed hair, giving a sensual smirk as he struggled to stifle his giggles. “I think I like that plan,” he admitted, face flushed red and chest full of butterflies as they kissed again._

_There would be many more that night._

 

* * *

 

He didn’t want to go.

Craig had been sitting quietly in the front seat of his car for nearly ten minutes now, fingers anxiously playing with the wrapping of his gift. He hadn’t paid much attention to the paper he’d grabbed at Kmart, but it was appropriately covered in little stars of various colors. He was sure Nichole would like it. He’d been pretty proud of his choices.

It wasn’t until he’d woken up that morning that he’d begun to have second thoughts about even delivering it.

There were already at least ten other cars lined up and down the street near the town house, three of which had arrived while he sat anxiously in his own vehicle. He wished more than anything that Tweek could be beside him, holding his hand as he walked into the party, but Craig was completely alone on this one. There was no one to kiss away his fear or assure him things were going to be fine. His fingers drummed against the present as he struggled to hype himself up, glancing out the window at guests making their way towards the door. He’d promised Nichole and Token he’d be here, so there was no backing out now.

Anxiety pulsed through Craig’s veins as he opened the driver side door, clumsily stepping out onto the sidewalk. The gift was tucked up under his left arm as he dragged his feet up the walkway, mentally preparing himself. Unlike most parties he’d been exposed to, the only thumping he heard as he approached the house was coming from his chest.

Knock, knock, knock.

He’d hardly even registered his action when Nichole answered the door, a huge smile on her face. It had been two weeks since he’d last seen her, and the difference in her stomach was staggering. He couldn’t help but stare for a moment before her voice brought him back to reality. “Craig, I’m glad you made it! I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“Me too,” he muttered, unable to help himself. “I-I mean…. I brought a gift though!” He’d hardly finished speaking as he thrust the package towards her, holding it out like an offering. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to…um…”

Nichole only laughed as she accepted it from him. “You’re too sweet. I should have guessed you’d put stars on it.” Her nails traced the patterns on the paper. “I’ll open it a little later. How about you come in and get yourself situated?”

Craig’s eyes wandered away from her face as he peered into the house. A handful of guests were mingling quietly, music playing at an underwhelming volume somewhere in the kitchen. He almost didn’t trust it, but he forced a smile and nodded before stepping into the foyer and allowing her to shut the door. “Sorry if I don’t talk much, I just… not one for parties.”

“That’s fine,” Nichole said, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Just grab yourself something to drink out of the ice box and relax, okay? No pressure. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Craig sighed as she turned the other way, watching her disappear into the living room. He’d been to the townhouse nearly every weekend since the funeral, but the fog in his brain made him feel like it was his first time stepping inside. His eyes began to wander as he rocked on his heels, hands picking at the lint on his jacket.

By some miracle his gaze met an equally unamused Kyle Broflovski’s from across the room. It didn’t last long, both of them immediately looking the other direction as if it had never happened. Craig hadn’t even spoken to him at the funeral, let alone since high school. The moment Kyle had perpetrated a fight big enough to make Tweek cry was the moment Craig had wanted nothing to do with him. His constant appearances were nonetheless foreboding. Craig wondered if it was some sort of weird sign from the universe. Tweek always said things happened for a reason.

Or maybe he was just overthinking things at his friend’s baby shower.

By some miracle he’d managed to make it to the kitchen, immediately focusing on a selection of cheap party trays covering the counter. He took a handful of cheese and shoved it into his mouth, watching the clock above the refrigerator tick on. Seconds seemed to last forever. How long were parties supposed to go, anyway?

“Oh. My. _God!_ Craig, is that you!?”

Before he could finish chewing, someone’s arms were suddenly hugging him from the back, squeezing tightly and practically swinging him around in a circle. He didn’t even get a chance to look at them as he bent over, coughing hard for a moment as he struggled to get down the remaining bits of food. It wasn’t like it mattered; he knew exactly who he was talking to before he even glanced up. “Bebe, you nearly killed me,” he choked, eyes watering slightly from the shock.

“Oh jeez, sorry,” she muttered, a neatly manicured hand suddenly against his back as she tried to soothe him. She was wearing a red jumper, thin braids woven between her long curls. It had been years since he had even seen her, yet she looked exactly the same. “I’m just so glad to see you, it’s been forever!”

Craig finally stood upright again, giving a few last thumps to the front of his chest as he cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admitted, fingers going back to messing with his sweater. Last he’d checked, Bebe had gone off to some college halfway across the country to study STEM. The last place he ever expected to see her again was in Denver. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Well, _technically yes_ ,” she said playfully, winking. “But Nikki told me she was throwing a party and I couldn’t miss this. Seriously, a whole bunch of people are here that I haven’t seen since we graduated. It’s so neat!”

“Yeah… _neat_.” Craig felt himself begin to rock on his heels again, uncomfortably glancing back at the clock. Hardly any time had passed between putting the death-wish cheese in his mouth and now. The universe was totally plotting against him.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Bebe scolded, a fake pout on her face. “I said hi to Kyle and Annie, and I met Jimmy’s girlfriend.”

“What’s her name again?”

“I think it was Emma.”

Craig scoffed. “That wasn’t what it was when I met her at the reveal party.”

Bebe could only giggle, rolling her eyes at him. “Glad to know I’m not the only one struggling to keep a relationship,” she said. Craig immediately prepared himself to tune out; the last thing he wanted to hear was Bebe’s dating woes. Fortunately, she didn’t dwell on it. “Speaking of that, though…” She had suddenly taken Craig’s hands in her own, bouncing up and down against the tile floor. “Where is he?”

“Excuse me?”

She huffed in mock annoyance, giving him a look. “Come ooooon, you two are never apart. Is Tweek off with Clyde or something?” She was suddenly leaning to the side, trying to glance into the living room.

Craig’s face twisted uncomfortably as he forced her to let go, stepping back. “He’s… not here,” he said bluntly, unsure what else to say. The terrible feeling was back in his chest again.

“Oh,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders as if it were nothing. “I mean, I know he’d get all weirded out with-”

“Bebe,” Craig interrupted, shaking his head. Of course she wouldn’t know; it wasn’t like someone would have told her. News may travel fast in a small town, but Tweek’s existence seemed to stop at the boarder of South Park. “Tweek… Tweek’s funeral was in March.”

It was never any easier to say.

“ _Oh_ ,” she said softly, her expression completely mortified. “Oh my god, I’m… Craig, I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” he assured her, trying his best to keep a positive expression. He was pretty sure he was failing miserably. “You just didn’t know.”

Just like before, Bebe’s arms took him by surprise as they wrapped around Craig’s shoulders. He was practically folded in half with the height difference, smothered by a face-full of hair as she held his head close to her chest. “I just… can’t even find the words,” she admitted softly, instead opting to show her sympathy through physical means. Craig appreciated the gesture. It had been a while since someone had hugged him with such intention.

“Really, it’s fine,” he said again, breath catching in his throat as he hugged her in return. Maybe he _had_ missed Bebe a little bit. Her hyper-empathy during childhood had driven him a bit mad, but in times like these, it was what he needed. When she finally released him he wiped at his eyes, forcing the beginning of tears to disappear.

“I _knew_ something was up,” Bebe sighed, almost scolding herself. “I should have picked up on it. What the hell happened?”

It had been easier to answer when Kenny had asked him in the bar almost two months ago. “A lot,” was all he could say, shoulders hunched in discomfort. “A lot.”

Bebe brought him in for another quick hug, patting his back. “Hey, hey…you’re fine, alright? You don’t have to tell me right now. Let’s just go chill in the living room, okay? Clyde’s been asking for you since I got here.”

Before Craig could even suggest another option, Bebe was dragging him by the arm towards a group of people sitting on couches around a coffee table full of gifts. Clyde was sprawled on one of them like he owned the place, furiously scribbling on a lined notebook between quips of conversation.

“Yo, Shakespeare, I found him,” Bebe chirped, giving Craig just enough of a shove to send him flailing on top of Clyde. The next thing he knew, the other boy’s arms were around him, squeezing in an uncomfortable hug.

“Craaaaaaaaaig, my main MAN, I was looking for you!” Clyde teased, paper and pencil falling off the side of the couch with his violent snuggling. Unlike Bebe’s soft comfort, Clyde’s affection was as loud and in-your-face as his personality. Craig barely managed to wiggle free, immediately scrambling to the sliver of couch that was not occupied by his childhood best friend.

“Don’t do that again,” he grumbled, unable to help giving a playful shove in return. A couple of people he’d never seen before in his life were giggling on the other couch. Kyle was standing next to Annie and Red just across the room, sending him an odd glance. “Seriously, I’ll kick your ass.” Craig wasn’t sure if he was directing it at his best friend or the boy staring him down.

It didn’t seem to matter. “Clyde deserves to get his ass kicked ninety percent of the time,” Bebe agreed, sitting against the armrest next to Craig. Her red fingernails drummed against her leg in boredom.

Clyde was hanging off the side of the couch, fingers reaching for the pencil that had rolled across the carpet. “Whateverrrrrrrr. It’s your fault for interrupting the process of _genius._ ” He tapped the eraser end against his nose as he made a goofy expression, tongue poking between grinning lips.

Craig couldn’t help leaning a bit closer, raising his eyebrows as he attempted to peer at the scribbles on the paper. “Oh? What’s this, another scholarship?”

Clyde pressed it protectively against his chest. “No peeking, it’s for _Nichole,_ ” he said defensively, touting his bottom lip in a fake pout. “I’m pretty sure if someone else sees it then it’s like, cursed or something.”

“Are you _really_ giving her a shitty poem as a gift?” Craig asked in mock disbelief. Of course he’d give her the cheapest, easiest to produce thing he could manage.

“Perks of being the writer friend,” was all Clyde could respond with, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the paper. “It’s almost perfect. Don’t worry, I’m not handing it to her on lined paper. I’m gonna transfer it to some pretty shit when I’m done.” He gestured to a set of stationary hiding behind one of the gifts on the coffee table.

 “Like that’s any better,” Craig sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure Nicki’s gonna love it, though,” Bebe cheered supportively, giving Craig a nudge. He was sure she would; Nichole seemed to appreciate anything and everything that came her way. “It’s a cute idea.”

As if she’d been summoned, Nichole came walking into the living room, Token by her side. A few more guests, including Jimmy and his new girlfriend, were close behind. “Everyone’s here!” she announced proudly, one of her hands resting against her stomach. “Thank you guys so much for coming, it means a lot to us.”

“Ayyyyy, no problem,” Clyde shouted sarcastically from his spot on the couch, eliciting a few more laughs. He was writing on the stationary now, polishing up his gift. “Not like I’m here _anyway_ …”

Nichole let out a huff before marching over to him, playfully flopping on top of Clyde as if he were a pesky younger sibling. “Oh my _goooood_ , you poor _baby_ ,” she teased, suffocating him under her weight despite his shouts for her to stop. Craig suddenly felt squished as they began to tussle beside him.

“I swear to god, Clyde, if you hurt my fiancé, I’m kicking you out,” Token warned playfully, finding a seat across from them.

Nichole laughed, finally sliding enough for Clyde to climb out from under her. “She started it,” he grumbled, still clutching his piece of stationary to his chest. “Since you’re here though, you should open shit up. And by open, I mean read mine.” Before Nichole could respond, he was shoving the paper into her hands. “Shh, don’t read it out loud though, it’ll ruin it.”

Nichole gave him a look before settling into the couch, reading over the paper in relative silence. The further she went along, the bigger the smile on her face grew. “Aww, Clyde, that’s really sweet,” she said finally, hugging him tightly.

“What’s it say?” Token prodded.

“He told me not to tell,” she reminded him stubbornly, setting the card face down on the table beside the other presents. “I might as well open the rest of these while I’m at it. Craig, this one’s yours, right?” Her fingers danced on top of the starry wrapping paper.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding.

“We couldn’t have g-guessed,” Jimmy teased, watching as Nichole pulled it from the pile. “Spaceman Craig never really w-went a…away.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she corrected, beginning to pull at the paper as she set it in her lap the best she could. Soon the little multi-colored stars were torn open and the contents of his package were revealed. “Awww, Craig, this is so cute,” Nichole cooed as she lifted out the rattle, then the onesie. “Token, honey, look at this!”

“Of course he picked that one,” Token snorted, trying his best not to laugh as she turned it around to reveal the surprise rocket ship on the back. “Very _Craig_ of him.”

“It’s _darling_ ,” Nichole corrected stubbornly, folding it neatly before putting it back on the table. Her eyes dropped back to her lap, brows furrowing in confusion at the slight weight still left within the paper. Craig watched as she turned it over, letting a dozen glow-in-the-dark stars tumble onto the table. “Oh!”

“It’s from Tweek,” Craig found himself saying, the words coming out sooner than the embarrassment could hit him. “Um…”

All eyes were suddenly on him, his voice catching in his throat. Some people knew. Some people didn’t. None of them would really understand.

“Go on,” Bebe urged softly, her hand against his shoulder. “You’re fine.”

Craig let out a sharp breath, eyes stuck on the floor. The comfort helped, but he could feel himself going into shutdown mode. “He… got them for me last year, but… the baby… um.” He’d thought they’d make a nice addition to his gift, but now he was having second thoughts. Tweek was the one who liked picking out presents. Tweek should have been there.

Nichole gathered the stars up in her hands, holding them close to her chest. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m… He’d have really liked to give these, I think. The baby’s gonna love them— _I_ love them.”

“Yeah,” Craig muttered, his stomach churning. He was suddenly on his feet, his hand grasping for the armrest only to hit Bebe in the leg instead. “I need to--”

“I’m on it,” Bebe was saying, suddenly grabbing him by the arm and leading him out of the living room. All Craig could hear was the soft, concerned chatter echoing loudly in his ears as she took him back towards the kitchen. “Bathroom?”

Craig nodded weakly, letting her take the lead as she continued to walk him down the hallway. As soon as the door was open he threw himself inside, hands slamming against the sides of the sink as he heaved out an uncontrollable sob. His eyes welled with tears as he practically dropped his head into the basin, unsure what else to do with himself.

“Hey, hey,” Bebe whispered, a hand on his back. “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not,” he whimpered, most of his weight supported by the counter now. “Just go away, I’m just…fucking…”

There was a pause before Bebe removed her hand, then a click as the door closed behind her. As soon as he was alone his knees gave way, body sliding to the floor. He should have left the stars out of the gift. He should have just stayed in his car. No, he should have just stayed at home all together! Every time he left, things seemed to fall apart around him. Every time he got the pieces back together, it crumbled under the pressure of the glue.

Things were never going to go back to how they were.

By the time Craig managed to quiet his sobs, enough time had passed to leave him wondering if the party was over yet. With a quick splash of water on his face and few tissues to cleanse his airways, he quietly unlocked the bathroom door. Maybe Nichole and Token would take enough pity on him to help him sneak out early if guests were still around.

It was relatively quiet as Craig tiptoed down the hallway, trying his best to keep a low profile. Maybe if he moved quickly enough, he could slide out the door without anyone noticing his absence. It seemed like a perfectly plausible plan until he turned into the kitchen, suddenly face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

Fuck.

Kyle’s eyes went wide, immediately looking the other direction. The refrigerator was half open, most of his body obscured. “Hey,” he said quietly. It was the first word he’d said since high school.

Craig paused, fingers curling and uncurling in the awkward silence. “Hey,” he said finally, unsure what else to do.

“Are you…are you okay?”

He bit at his lip, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah,” he said. “Just… _heh_. You know.” Craig wasn’t sure why he was laughing. _Why the hell was he laughing?_

The refrigerator door opened just a bit more as Kyle ducked down lower. “Um… sorry. About everything.”

“It’s fine,” Craig said, rubbing at his eyes again. He hoped he didn’t look too blotchy. “Seems like everything’s setting me off lately, ya know?”

“No,” Kyle corrected. Craig couldn’t see his face anymore. “Before. With him.”

Craig didn’t understand. “What?”

A pause. “I dunno, just… I went down to his grave last weekend to talk to him. Just thought you should know.”

Craig blinked in absolute bafflement, struggling to follow. “ _Why?”_

Another pause. “I felt bad about what I said.” Kyle’s head finally resurfaced, barely peeking at Craig. His eyes were moist. “He was pushing me and I snapped and I said shit I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know it was really gonna happen. I just had to apologize. I wanted him to know I was sorry, even if it was five years too late.”

“Kyle,” Craig said, unable to get anything more out of his mouth.

“And… and I wanted _you_ to know I was sorry, too.” The door to the refrigerator slammed shut, Kyle holding a couple of sodas in his hands. He held one out to Craig, tilting his head back towards the living room. “I dunno if you were planning on staying, but I think Nichole would like it if you did.”

Craig let out a sigh, a sympathetic smile creeping onto his face. Maybe it was his feeling of emotional vulnerability, but he couldn’t help reaching out and taking the drink. There was an odd sense of relief in the air. “I guess I could,” he said, following Kyle back towards the living room.

 

* * *

 

_Tweek’s fist was suddenly colliding with Kyle’s nose, sending them both stumbling backwards. “Touch me again, you son of a bitch!” he shrieked, barely able to breathe. “I fucking dare you to try it!” A small crowd had gathered around, some urging them to stop, others egging the fight on. Clyde was practically dragging Craig by the arm towards the emanating violence._

_“Try me first!” Kyle shouted back, struggling back to his feet. Neither of them could even remember what had triggered the argument, but things had quickly spiraled out of control. “Come at me, you spazzy piece of sh--”_

_Tweek went flying again, tackling Kyle back to the ground. “Stuck up smartass,” he growled, a fistful of red curls between his fingers. “Know-it-all stupid mother fucker!”_

_“Tweek, stop!” Craig was shouting, struggling to push past a group of people. It didn’t seem to help anything; Tweek was slamming Kyle’s head against the hard floor as if he didn’t hear him._

_“At least I have SOMETHING!” Kyle was snarling back, managing to kick Tweek in the shin hard enough to wiggle free. Stan and Craig had both finally broken through the crowd, running to their respective aggressor._

_Tweek tried to pull away from Craig’s grip as he was dragged backwards, but he wasn’t about to hurt him just to get another swing. “Shut the fuck up,” he screamed instead, watching as Stan pulled Kyle as far away as possible._

_“You know I’m right,” Kyle continued, a finger pointing accusingly despite Stan’s warning to let it go. “We all know you’ve got nothing! Hell, with a name like yours, you were damned from the moment you were born. Your parents must really fucking hate you!”_

_“Kyle!” Stan shouted, still wrestling with him._

_“And you know what?” he continued, still pushing back. “One of these days you’re gonna end up dead in a ditch covered in cocaine, and I’m gonna laugh because I’ll be RIGHT.”_

_“Kyle, I said stop!” Stan shouted again, pulling him right out of the circle and down the hall. People were already beginning to dissipate as the principal came towards them._

_Tweek had gone limp against Craig’s chest, a bloodied hand pressed against his mouth to silence his sobs._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK TOO LOOOOOOOONG im so r r y

_“One, two, three—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”_

_There was a smattering of applause from Craig and Kenny as Tweek covered his face with his hands. “You guys, geez,” he muttered, failing miserably at hiding the embarrassed flush across his cheeks. The bar smelled heavily of cigarettes, but their little party was worth the mild discomfort. Skeeter didn’t care if Kenny and Craig were just shy of their own twenty-first to let them all in for a celebration._

_“Shhh, come on,” Craig cooed, fingers intertwining with his boyfriend’s. They’d spent most of the day together at the apartment, but the bar had been Kenny’s idea. Tweek had needed an excuse to get out of the house, and a proper party couldn’t hurt. “Today’s your day, baby.”_

_Tweek’s head lowered against his boyfriend’s shoulder, his free hand messing with the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s just another birthday,” he insisted. “It’s not that important.”_

_Craig’s lips were suddenly against his cheek, covering his jawline with soft kisses. “It’s very important,” he corrected, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You know that.”_

_Craig always knew how to make him feel loved, but birthdays were extra special._

_“Hey, here we go,” Kenny said suddenly, watching as Skeeter brought over a set of drinks to the counter. As soon as they were set down he pushed them towards the other two._

_“Last time I checked, I didn’t order anything,” Craig said, voice full of suspicion. “Ken?”_

_“They’re on me,” Kenny clarified, grabbing for his own glass. “This is a bar, dumbass, what did you expect? Fruit juice?”_

_Craig’s mouth opened for a moment, unsure what to say. “You know I don’t drink,” he finally said, completely baffled._

_“Not legally,” Kenny corrected, chugging his down in one gulp before slamming the empty glass on the table. “Our lil’ Tweek is all grown up now, he needs a big boy drink- and you do, too.” He leaned in closer in an attempt to mimic Tweek’s pose, plopping his head against Craig’s arm._

_“Get off,” Craig scolded playfully, giving his arm a weak shake. His fingers gripped at the glass in contemplation. He needed to drive his boyfriend home safely, so alcohol felt like a bad idea. “Plus I’m underage.”_

_“Never stopped anyone before.”_

_“Kenny. Seriously.”_

_Kenny rolled his eyes, tongue darting between his lips in mockery. “Fine,” he grumbled, shifting back into his seat. “Looks like it’s just me and birthday boy.”_

_“I can’t either,” Tweek sighed, biting at his lip. Craig gave him a gentle pat on the thigh in an attempt to soothe him. “Medication and stuff. Alcohol doesn’t mix.”_

_“Shiiiiiit,” Kenny groaned, narrowing his eyes at the two full glasses in front of him. “You telling me I’m on my own?”_

_“Looks like it,” Craig teased, pushing his own glass back towards Kenny. “Have fun with that.”_

_There was a pause as Kenny drummed his fingers against the counter, staring at the glass in thought. “Here,” he said, nudging Tweek’s drink back towards him, “just hold this for a second, ‘kay?”_

_Tweek blinked in confusion, glaring at it as if it were full of poison. “What?”_

_Kenny ignored his questioning, fingers digging in his pocket for his phone. The screen was cracked in three different ways, but it somehow managed to function. “Hold it up like you’re gonna drink it and I’ll snap a pic for the memories.”_

_“Noooo,” Tweek giggled, suddenly throwing his hands over his eyes again. “Don’t do that!”_

_Kenny was snapping photos anyway, progressively shoving the phone closer into his face. “Tweeeeek,” he begged, “come on, let’s see!”_

_“Babe,” Craig begged, joining in on the fun. He threw his arms around Tweek’s shoulders, pulling him close as Kenny continued to bombard them with the clicking of his camera application. “Babe, we gotta get your face in there!”_

_“No!” Tweek squeaked again, fingers opening just enough to flash his hazel eyes to the camera. Craig was assaulting the backs of his hands with kisses, coaxing him to lower them enough for a smooch on the lips._

_“Babe,” he said again, squeezing tighter as Kenny backed up._

_“There he is,” Kenny practically shouted, snapping a few more before turning the phone around and sliding his face into the shot. “Heeeeeere’s the birthday boy!”_

_“Stooooooop,” Tweek groaned, but they’d won. He smiled for the endless photos, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he grinned._

_Birthdays had never been his favorite time of the year, but maybe this one had shaped up to be alright._

 

* * *

 

Craig’s car rolled to a stop just over the train tracks, pulling into the gravel driveway of Kenny’s home. Nothing much had changed since their childhood; the paint was still peeling from the door and the porch was still falling apart. The only real difference was that Kenny and Karen were the only ones left in it.

And Marjorine. There was also Marjorine.

Craig pulled his key from the ignition, staring silently at the door. Just like the baby shower, something was preventing him from getting out and walking inside. It had been years since he’d visited the Mccormick house, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. His fingers curled around a small bouquet of flowers in the passenger seat before shoving the door open. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought they’d be appropriate. He hadn’t seen Marj since high school. He wanted to make a decent impression.

Craig slammed the car door shut before kicking at the gravel, ascending the creaking porch and knocking on the door. Little footsteps echoed inside almost immediately before a click of the lock.

“Craig!” Karen gasped, throwing the door open. “Hi!”

Craig gave her an awkward smile, sheepishly shrugging his shoulders. It was hard to imagine she was only a year younger than Tricia; she had a much more youthful face in comparison to his sister. “Jeez, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A couple years, I think,” she said, waving him inside. “Doesn’t matter though, you’re here now!”

Craig stepped in, flowers still clutched tightly between his fingers. The interior of the home was much nicer than the outside, especially compared to what Craig remembered from their childhood. It was clear Kenny had been trying his best to keep the place in good shape. “How’s school?” he asked, attempting to make small talk.

“It’s good,” Karen said, seeming distracted as she wandered further into the house. Craig could only follow along, looking around. The walls were covered with odd knickknacks, cardboard boxes sitting in the center of the living room. “Kenny’s been helping me look for scholarships. I’ve still got senior year, but it’s smart to start early.”

“Good idea,” he said, following her around a corner and down a hallway. “Is Kenny back here?”

Karen nodded, knocking a few times against one of the bedroom doors. “Yeah, should be. They just started unpacking some stuff. _Ken! Marj!_ _Craig’s here!”_

There were more footsteps before the door opened, Kenny’s face painted with a huge grin. “Glad to see you got out of bed today,” he teased, patting Craig on the shoulder before silently inviting him in. “Marj’s excited to see you.”

The room was empty except for a large bed and some cheesy posters on the wall. Clothing and empty hangers were strewn all over the comforter. “Where’s she at?” Craig asked, suddenly self-conscious about the flowers in his hand. “I, uh…brought these for her.”

As if she’d been summoned, Marjorine suddenly appeared from the attached bathroom. It took a moment for Craig to even recognize her; her hair was just starting to grow out, styled into a neat bob around her ears. “Craig, there you are! We were worried you weren’t coming!” Before he could say anything, her arms were around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“Oh, hey,” Craig finally said, recuperating the hug the best he could. When Marjorine finally pulled away, he held out his present. “Thought I’d bring these by. Housewarming gift?”

Her face lit up in surprise. “Oh gee, thanks,” she said shyly, looking the other way as she took them from him. She sniffed them generously before grinning. “That’s awful sweet of you!”

“It’s no problem,” Craig laughed nervously, unsure what else to say. “It’s good to see that you’re doing well.”

“I’m doing _great_ ,” she corrected, already walking out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. Craig and Kenny followed, Karen wandering off to her bedroom. “I packed up my stuff Friday night and Kenny helped bring it all over yesterday morning in his truck. Dad was pretty mad about it, but it’s not like he could do anything.” She set the flowers on the counter for a moment before digging through the cabinets for a large pitcher. “Ken’s really been my saving grace.”

Kenny only laughed, leaning up against the counter. “You’re the one who made the choice, buttercup,” he corrected, raising his eyebrows. “I just provided an out. You stood up to him all on your own.”

Marjorine set the pitcher in the center of the counter before unwrapping the flowers and arranging them inside. “Either way,” she sighed, “I’m out of there.”

“And that’s all that matters,” Kenny said, moving just close enough to kiss her cheek before glancing back at Craig. “Oh,” he said suddenly, attempting to bring him back into the conversation, “how was that baby shower thing?”

Craig blinked a few times, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. The day before had been nothing short of interesting. “Oh, you know,” he muttered, unable to help himself from giggling, “Bebe made me choke, cried in the bathroom, talked to Kyle… usual shit.”

“Woah, woah,” Kenny interrupted, waving his hand. “You talked to Kyle?” His eyes had lit up like the fourth of July; there was nothing he loved more than gossip. “You’ve gotta tell us about that.”

Marjorine, equally curious, raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hated Kyle ‘cause of highschool.”

“I do,” Craig sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. “I still think he’s a piece of shit, but…ya know. Maybe he’s grown up a little. He was decent to me at the party and he apologized.” Craig wasn’t sure if he’d accepted Kyle’s remorse yet. It was hard to ignore his words when Tweek was gone. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’ll talk again.”

“Suuuuuure,” Kenny teased, his fingers entangled with Marjorine’s. The two began to walk back towards the living room towards the stack of cardboard boxes. Kenny only let go to lift one off the stack. “You said the same thing about a lot of high school people, but last time I checked, you say hi to them.”

“I don’t talk to anyone except you,” Craig corrected, taking another off the pile. He figured he might as well make himself useful; the boxes needed moving and unpacking, and he still felt like he owed Kenny a favor. “It’s just you and Clyde and Token and Nichole and Jimmy.”

“And me?” Marjorine peeped.

“And you,” Craig added, flashing her a smile. He couldn’t help but be kind; there were a lot of things about her that reminded him of his boyfriend. She was sweet and smart and she did her best despite the circumstances.

He could only wish Tweek had been as resilient.

“That’s a start,” Kenny assured him, beginning the walk towards the bedroom with a couple of boxes in his arms. “I mean, you should really branch out more, but at least you’ve got something.”

“I don’t need much,” Craig argued, kicking open the door to the bedroom before setting his box on the floor. It was loosely closed with three layers of scotch tape, the word _‘clothes’_ written in flowery writing along the side with a blue sharpie. It didn’t take much to pull it open. “I’m okay with just having, like… five friends.” He would have been happy with just Tweek, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Suit yourself, Tucker,” Kenny sighed, already pulling out items from his own box. It didn’t take long for them to lay out Marjorine’s belongings onto the bed. Most of it was leftovers from before her transition, but there were a few things that had been recently purchased.

“Dad would usually toss stuff if he found it,” she explained, lovingly flattening a skirt out against the mattress, “but I managed to keep a couple hidden from him. This one’s my favorite.” Something about it reminded Craig of all those years ago when they’d made Marjorine go under cover. The outfit’s skirt then had also been green and pleated. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was significant. “I can build my collection now, though! I saw Bebe on Instagram the other day with a red jumper. I wanna get something like that.”

“It was probably a picture from the baby shower,” Craig assumed, remembering her outfit from the day before. “Can you believe she flew down for a weekend just for that stupid party? God, I wish I had that much money.”

“She has a nice job,” Marjorine said, as if that would help his opinion any.

“And a new sugar daddy every week, I’m sure.” Craig wasn’t sure what else to say about her. He wasn’t about to get into any details about how much she’d helped him through his weekly breakdown. That was too embarrassing. “She’s less obnoxious than Clyde, though, so I’ll deal with her any day.”

Marjorine laughed, shaking her head. “I’d still like to see Clyde, though,” she said, hands clasped together playfully. “It’s been a long time.”

Craig only gave a sympathetic smile as he began to break down his box, pressing it flat against the carpet. She hadn’t said much about her life between high school and now, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. At least Tweek had support. Marjorine didn’t appear to have had much of anything.

A sudden ringing disrupted their conversation, sending Craig fishing for the phone buzzing around in his pocket. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen. Coincidence and bad luck seemed to rule his life these days; of all people to be calling, it was Clyde. He quickly raised it to his ear, rolling his eyes. “Yeah?”

“ _Heyyyyyy_ ,” Clyde said. Someone was talking it the background. “Dude, what’s up?”

“I’m busy,” Craig said quickly, eyes darting up to catch Kenny’s questioning expression. There was no way he was going to make him feel ignored again. “What do you need?”

“Jeez, way to be rude,” Clyde complained. Craig was sure he was rolling his eyes right back. “I just wanted to pass along something from Nichole, okay?”

“Fine. What does _she_ need?”

“Well, we were just thinking…” Clyde trailed off, another voice speaking in the background again. “Okay, I’ll tell him,” he said softly, as if he’d pulled the phone away for a second.

“Tell me what?”

“You know how you gave Nichole those lil plastic star thingies?” Clyde asked. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, continuing almost immediately. “Well, we’re almost done painting the baby’s room and Nichole was wondering if you wanna come over and put them up for her. You’re tall, right? I bet you won’t even need a step stool.”

“I was _literally_ at your house yesterday,” Craig said, biting at his lip.

“Yeah, but this is important to her. She thinks--” There was another awkward break off, more chattering in the distance. “She just thinks it’ll be good for you to put them up yourself. They were your gift.” His speech sounded forced, as if he were trying to avoid the specifics of her request.

Craig wasn’t stupid. “In honor of Tweek or something, right?”

A pause. “Yes? I guess so? Her words, not mine.” The background talking was louder, but Clyde seemed to ignore it. “It would probably be therapeutic or some shit, I don’t know! Token’s the doctor, not me.”

“Great, thanks,” Craig replied bitterly.

“But really, you should come down. Please? _Pleaaaaaaaaaaaase?_ We’re gonna be too busy until the wedding to really do anything else.”

“I don’t know anyone who gets married while being THAT pregnant,” Craig muttered, watching Kenny throw a hand against his mouth in an attempt to keep his giggles at bay. “I don’t know why they’re rushing it.”

“Well, we’ve got a month ‘till then either way.”

“I’m at Kenny and Marjorine’s, though,” Craig continued, trying to kick up excuses. “Ya know, my other friends.”

“Marjorine?”

“Stotch.”

Another pause. “Actually, it’s good you’re with them, because I got a message from Token now.”

“God damn, what are you, an answering machine?” Craig teased. He couldn’t help but wonder what about as he looked up at Kenny again. _Clyde’s got something to tell you,_ he mouthed.

“Well, I guess he wants Ken’s number. So he can invite him to the wedding. He can bring his…girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend.”

“He can bring her too.”

Craig blinked a few times, utterly shocked. Why the hell would they invite Kenny, of all people? They hadn’t made any effort to contact him before. He slowly lowered the phone. “Token wants you at the wedding,” he stated bluntly. “Do you want me to give Clyde your number or should I tell him no?”

Kenny only blinked in surprise, head cocked in confusion. “Me?”

“Yep,” Craig confirmed. “You.”

“I dunno,” he said, eyes glued on the floor. “He’s never asked me before.”

Craig fiddled with his phone, unsure how to convince him. Kenny would probably have a better time at the wedding than he ever would; if anything, he actually deserved to enjoy himself. “He said Marj can come too. Besides, you’re always bitching at me about getting out of my comfort zone or whatever and being social. Care to set an example?”

Marjorine’s eyes lit up from where she was sitting on the bed, bouncing in excitement. “Kenny?” she asked, practically begging him with her oversized eyes. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Kenny looked back and forth between the two for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Okay,” he said, giving a loving smile to his girlfriend, “I guess we should go. I mean, _maybe_ it could be fun.”

Craig lifted the phone again. “Congratulations, you win. Ken and Marj will come.”

“Hell yea,” Clyde giggled. Craig could just imagine him now, giving a thumbs up to his housemates and all three of them grinning like idiots over the news. “What about the baby’s room?”

“I’ll be over in a couple of hours, lemme finish up over here.”

“Alrighty, I’ll let Nichole and Toke know. See ya later!” The phone let out a beep and the screen went black, leaving Craig unable to say any further goodbyes.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kenny suddenly said, causing Craig to look up. Unlike the time in the garage, he didn’t sound upset. “I understand if--”

“No,” Craig insisted, tucking the phone away. “I said I was gonna come over and help, so I’m here. I’m not leaving ‘till we’re done.” With that, he began to work again, leaving the box he’d already broken down flat on the floor while he grabbed the next one.

Kenny only stared for a moment before joining him. “Suit yourself,” he said, somewhat impressed. Marjorine sat cross-legged on the bed as she began to place the clothing on hangers, leaving Kenny to sort through the few personal belongings she’d snagged. Soon the boxes were empty and flat again, leaving Craig and Marjorine to relax on the couch in the living room while Kenny grabbed drinks from the kitchen.

“Thanks again for helping,” Marjorine said, curled up against one end. The TV was playing some children’s cartoon that Karen had put on. “You really didn’t have to come out here and do that.”

“It’s really no problem,” he insisted, letting himself relax against the cushions. “Kenny’s been telling me to get out of the apartment, so… ya know. Perfect opportunity.”

“Damn right,” Kenny said suddenly, coming out of the kitchen with an arm-full of sodas and a small white envelope. He handed his girlfriend and Craig each one before setting his own on the table.

“What’s that?” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow as Kenny squeezed between him and Marjorine. “I’ve got enough bills of my own, I don’t wanna see yours.”

“Not bills,” Kenny corrected, opening the flap. He carefully shook a stack of photographs into his hand before setting the opened envelope onto the coffee table as well. “I was clearing out my old phone so I could give it to Karen,” he explained, handing them to Craig. “I thought you might like to have these, so I got ‘em printed.”

Craig scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What’s this, your—oh.” The second he actually looked at the first photo in the stack, he knew exactly what they were. His heart nearly stopped beating as he looked at the image, expression softening the longer he ogled. There, staring back at him through the glossy paper was Tweek, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he playfully held a glass of alcohol towards his lips.

“Can’t believe that was almost nine months ago,” Kenny said, leaning in closer. Marjorine was almost in his lap as she also peered at the photos. “I forgot I took ‘em, to be honest.”

Craig didn’t answer, silently taking the top photo off the stack and setting it on the table, then the next, then the next. Another Tweek, this time with his hands clasped firmly over his eyes, the picture blurry from his movement. Tweek kissing him on the cheek. Kenny attempting to slide into the photo, just the top of his face peeking in. Craig flipping off the camera. Tweek pouting, elbows resting against the bar counter.

“You alright?” Marjorine asked.

“Nah, I’m… I’m fine,” Craig said slowly, spreading the images out on the table. He could only let out an awkward laugh, feeling the beginning of tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “God, he looked really happy in these,” he said finally, biting his lip to try and keep down the sob wanting to escape his chest. He could tell it was before the November hospital visit; Tweek’s cheeks were full, face radiating warmth. He’d still had his job at the library. They’d had hopes and dreams of leaving South Park.

He wasn’t the pale, thin, lifeless thing Craig had been forced to bury.

Kenny gave Craig’s shoulder a reassuring pat, a sympathetic smile on his face. “It’s alright,” he said softly as Craig finally gave in, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “I miss him too. I cried over these last night, matter of fact.”

“He did,” Marjorine affirmed, her eyes brimming with tears as she reached for one of the photos. “I didn’t really know him that well, ‘specially after school was over, but… I’m sorry he’s gone.”

Craig sniffed, a grateful smile on his face as Kenny pulled both of them into a hug.

 

* * *

 

By the time Craig reached Token and Nichole’s condo, he was not in the mood for further socialization. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come down in the first place; he knew damn well that by the time he was done at Kenny’s he would be exhausted. He dragged himself up the driveway anyway, unable to even admire the little garden fairies or the flowers starting to bloom like he usually did.

Clyde was already throwing open the door. “Yo!” he shouted, waving him inside. “Token’s just touching up the walls. Ceiling’s dry though, we did that last night.”

Craig forced his best smile, following him through the foyer towards the staircase. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t been in the upstairs portion of the condo yet; every time he’d visited, there had been no need. He could smell the paint as they walked up and into a small bedroom off to the left.

“Hey Craig!” Nichole greeted, looking up from her work on one of the walls. The entire room was baby blue in color except for the window wall and the ceiling, which was painted a darker shade. “What do you think?”

“It’s cute,” Craig said, cautiously stepping onto the plastic covering the carpet. His eye was immediately drawn to what Nichole had been working on; she’d covered the accent wall with little shooting stars. “Space themed?”

“You inspired it,” she admitted, stepping back to admire her work. “I thought the stars were so cute, we could work with them. I got some of those little wall decals off Amazon, so when they get here I’ll put those up too. Spaceships and planets and stuff—it’s real cute!”

Craig laughed, unable to help the flush on his face. “Wow, that’s… that’s pretty cool,” he said, a hand pressing to his cheek. His exhaustion seemed to melt away. “Can I help?”

“The paint’s pretty much done,” Token said, sending a glance towards Clyde as he sat down in one of the folding chairs across the room. “No thanks to _some people._ ”

“I had poetry to write,” Clyde scoffed, arms crossed.

“You should have seen him, Craig,” Token continued, pointing a finger at him. “He literally sat in that chair half the day with his notebook while we worked.”

“It’s not _my_ baby,” Clyde stated.

“It’s also not _your_ house.”

He looked the other way, biting his lip.

“Anyway,” Nichole interrupted, grabbing Craig’s hand, “I got the stars right here!” She practically dragged him across the room towards a stepstool and a plastic K-Mart bag. “I just felt weird trying to hang them up myself. I really want you to do it.”

Craig couldn’t say no to her. “If you insist,” he said, picking up the plastic bag by the handles. “It’s not that big of a room, so there’ll be plenty of light from them. It’s pretty crazy how bright these ones are.” He remembered when Tweek had brought them home as a present; they’d had to take some down after the first night. He carefully dragged the stool across the floor, stepping up until he was high enough to reach the ceiling. “Did you decide on a name yet? I mean… August. That’s like, almost three months away.”

Nichole laughed, a hand against her stomach. “We’ve had some… disagreements. Token wants something common, but I want to try something more unique.”

Craig practically had flashbacks to the Red Lobster hostess. He could imagine why Token would be nervous about an unconventional name. “If you don’t tell me soon, I’m just gonna call him spaceman until he pops out.”

“Fine by me,” Token said, rolling his eyes. “I swear, he’s not gonna get named until he’s sitting in the incubator at this rate.”

Craig laughed, pressing a few stars to the ceiling after applying the adhesive. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I wanted it done before the wedding,” Nichole complained, “but I guess it’s gonna have to wait. There’s too much else going on right now.” Her hand was still against her stomach, pressing oddly against one side. “We should have done it sooner, though… little guy isn’t make this too comfortable. I can’t imagine how it’s gonna be next month.”

“You could have waited,” Craig muttered.

“Token’s dad wouldn’t have liked that,” Clyde suddenly blurted, earning another glare.

“It’s gonna be great either way,” Nichole stressed, watching as Craig finished up the stars. “I don’t care if he comes early and I break my water at that altar, I’m gonna enjoy our damn wedding.” Token set down his paintbrush, moving to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’m surprised you invited Kenny,” Craig said, climbing down from his stool as he stared at his carefully spaced masterpiece. They looked nice even with the lights on against the dark blue paint. “He was kinda nervous, but he’s gonna go. I’ll probably carpool with him.”

Token gave a nervous laugh. “Well, you know… I thought he was a cool kid back when we were young. It’s a shame we grew apart. It would be nice to see him again.” His eyes trailed upwards, looking at the stars. “Wow, those _are_ neat.”

“Told you,” Nichole giggled, giving him another quick kiss. “Craig, can you hit the lights? Let’s take a look.”

Craig felt like a child as he scampered across the room, fingers hovering over the light switch. “One, two, three!” he chanted, quickly flipping down. Just like that, the room was covered in a soft, green glow.

Nichole let out a squeal of joy, bouncing up and down. “Wow,” she muttered, “this is awesome!”

Craig could only smile, eyes tracing patterns in the stickers.

He was sure Tweek would have liked it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the calm before the storm. next chapter's gonna be hell <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> powered through this in one day because i was excited and ready to cry

_“He’s hurting you.”_

_Tweek sat cross-legged on the carpet of Craig’s bedroom, his head in his hands. “No,” he choked, the remains of tears still sliding down his cheeks. “No he isn’t.”_

_Craig took a deep breath as he continued to pace back and forth, arms crossed over his chest. The second Tweek had texted him a rapidly deteriorating string of ‘help’, he knew something was terribly wrong. He’d had to climb through his window just to get him out of the house after Richard refused to open the door._

_“He’s hurting you,” Craig said again._

_“No,” Tweek whimpered, lowering his head as his trembling sobs returned._

_It physically hurt for Craig to see him so distressed; his chest felt tighter the longer Tweek’s hiccupping gasps went on. “He’s abusing you,” he stated, trying his best to be empathetic. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to murder his boyfriend’s father right then and there. Tweek had been hardly coherent since he’d gotten him home, but Craig had put together the pieces. The daily delivery had gone horribly wrong. Richard had not paid on time, leaving Tweek to become ransom until he showed up and, as he had put it, ‘took care of the situation’._

_Craig didn’t want to know what that had meant, or what had happened to him in the meantime._

_“He doesn’t hit me,” Tweek insisted, muffled by the hands over his mouth. “It’s n…not like Butters’ dad or s-something.”_

_“He doesn’t have to hit you,” Craig insisted, fists closing in rage. “He does it will all his other bullshit. If I had it my way, he’d be fucking dead for it!”_

_“NO!” Tweek suddenly shrieked, scrambling from his spot on the floor and slamming right against Craig’s chest. His arms wrapped firmly around his middle, as if he were holding him back. “No, no, no, no, no!”_

_Craig was thrown off by the abrupt movement, staring in shock._

_“You can’t,” Tweek begged, pressing his face harder into his chest. “You can’t!”_

_“Why not?”_

_There was a pause as he took a quivering breath, struggling to get the words out. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”_

_“He wouldn’t dare.”_

_Tweek just let out another sob as Craig wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close. Even with the comfort, nothing could stop his trembling. He’d already seen enough violence in his life; the last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to become a part of it. Craig almost didn’t hear his whisper as he lifted his head, fear written across his face._

_“You’ve never seen what he can do with a gun.”_

 

* * *

 

Craig had checked the calendar at least three times that morning, just to make sure he was correct. He knew the day was coming, but the anxiety hadn’t fully kicked in until now.

It was a beautiful day in early June.

It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Craig had done his best to be supportive and join the excitement building up to it, but now he didn’t think he could keep it up anymore. He hadn’t been able to hold it together when Token had proposed; he wasn’t sure if he was going to hold it together during the actual ceremony. It had been exactly three months since the funeral, and the very thought of what he’d lost still made his chest ache.

He’d never get to propose. They’d never have a wedding.

Already dressed in his black suit, Craig lay against the couch, his head on the ugly throw pillow as silent tears streamed down his face. Kenny would be over any minute to come pick him up, and he wasn’t ready. “I don’t want to go,” he whimpered out loud, a hand against his mouth.

It had been a while since pretend Tweek had graced his imagination, but his familiar coping mechanism was suddenly sitting beside him. _“Why not?”_ he asked.

Craig just shook his head, embarrassed. “I don’t want to go without you,” he admitted, chest aching as he finally let out a sob. “I can’t do it without you, but you’re gone and you’re never fucking coming back!” He could practically feel the other boy’s hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. God, he was delusional. He’d lost his fucking mind. He wanted to scream and cry and curl up in his bed forever and ever.

 _“Then do that,”_ his imagination urged him. Tweek would have never encouraged him to hide away, but he didn’t care about that any more. He quickly grabbed his phone off the end table, dialing Kenny’s number and listening to the soft ringing until he picked up.

“I’m coming soon, jeez,” Kenny said immediately, clearly unamused. “Marj is just finishing up--”

“I’m not going.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not going,” he repeated, struggling to keep his sobs from tipping him off. “I just… you know, I just can’t do this, okay? It’s not happening today. Not today.” He couldn’t even get the words out properly. “So. Just. You can go without me.”

There was an awkward pause before Kenny let out a laugh in disbelief. “No,” he said firmly. “Uh, no. We’re not doing this. Get your ass up, I’ll be there in ten.”

The phone beeped as he hung up, leaving Craig alone on his couch. “Mother fucker,” he breathed, letting it fall against his lap. He didn’t bother to get up, instead opting to stare at the ceiling until he heard his front door open a good fifteen minutes later. God, he wished he hadn’t told him where his spare key was.

“Get up,” Kenny practically demanded, walking into the living room like owned the place. His usual playful tone was completely gone, giving Craig a glare that showed he meant business. Marjorine was standing in the doorway, wearing a jumper decorated with sunflowers.

Craig didn’t say anything, barely glancing their direction. He didn’t want to move.

“I said to get up,” Kenny repeated, a hint of aggression bleeding into his voice.

“I’m not going!” Craig practically shouted in protest, but his friend already had already wiggled his arms under his armpits in an attempt to drag him up. “Stop!”

Kenny ignored him, yanking him off the couch and onto his feet. “Now is not the time to shut down,” he told him. “Get. Up.”

As soon as he was upright, Craig shoved Kenny away, stepping back. “I can’t,” he begged, hands against his chest as he let out another pathetic sob. “I can’t do it without him, okay? You don’t understand!”

“ _I_ don’t understand?!” Kenny snapped back, pointing a finger at him. “Listen, Tucker, you know as well as I do that life doesn’t just fucking stop because you want it to. You wanna curl up and die because you can’t do it alone, but you know what? Sometimes you’ve got bills and deadbeat father and a baby sister to take care of and you can’t afford to give the fuck up, okay? Shit goes on, and goddammit, you have to deal with it!”

It only made Craig cry harder, his hands moving to hide his face. “I’m sorry,” he wept, unsure what else to say.

Almost immediately, Kenny’s expression softened. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. Just like that night in the bar after the funeral, he gave him a tight, reassuring hug. “You’re alright, okay? Me and Marj are going with you. You’re not alone. We’ll help you through it, yeah?”

Craig just lay limp against his shoulders for a moment, trying to compose himself. “I need to see him first,” he said softly, inadvertently agreeing. “Just take me to see him?”

Kenny nodded silently, pulling away from the hug and stepping back towards Marjorine as Craig put on his shoes. It didn’t take long for them all to pile into the truck and head down the road, taking the freeway towards Denver. As requested, however, Kenny pulled off to a nearby exit. Craig knew the road well as they made their way up the hill towards the church.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Kenny asked, pulling into the otherwise empty parking lot. “We can turn back, if you want. I’ll just take us the rest of the way to the wedding.”

Craig shook his head, eyes staring vacantly out the window at the church. He couldn’t believe that he was here only three months ago, sitting in his mother’s car and dreading stepping foot inside. Now he felt like something would go terribly wrong if he didn’t. “I need this,” he admitted, pushing open the side door and hopping out onto the gravel below. Kenny and Marjorine followed behind as he began the walk up the hill, the anxious feeling building in his chest the further he went.

It wasn’t hard to find the headstone; Craig had visited at least once a week since the funeral. The remains of the last flowers he’d set against them were still there, petals fluttering weakly in the soft breeze. Every step closer felt harder and harder to make until he was right in front of it, staring at the lettering with a vacant stare. _Tweek Tweak, August 17 th 1996 – March 13th, 2018_. The boarder was decorated with little angels, the phrase _‘forever mine’_ in big bold letters just below. He didn’t care if Kenny or Marjorine were watching; with a shaking breath he laid down against the ground in the same suit he’d worn when they’d buried him, both palms pressed firmly to the dirt.

Being so close to him was comforting.

“I wish you could’ve been here for all this,” he said softly towards the ground, unsure what else to do. “I wish you’d have been able to go to the reveal party and the baby shower and the wedding. I wish you’d have been here to meet Marjorine and to spend the weekend with Tricia and do all those things you loved. You could have painted a million masterpieces. You could have put those stars up and drawn galaxies all over the nursery.” He let out a shaking breath. “But… but you can’t. You can’t, and…”

It was too hard. He couldn’t go on like this.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, eyes still shut tightly. Kenny and Marjorine just watched silently from a distance. “I’m sorry that I just…”

A million memories flashed behind his eyelids as Craig began to cry again, cheek pressed firmly to the soil. He could still see his boyfriend’s sweet smile, feel the way he’d kiss him, smell the coffee and flowery scented shampoo when he would hold him close. He remembered their childhood, the day they moved in together, taking him to therapy, Tweek’s twenty-first birthday and all the ones before. He remembered the hospital visit in November and his slow recovery afterwards.

What had gone so wrong? No matter what hit him, Tweek had always stayed happy and optimistic up until the overdose actually took place. He’d suffered from withdraw, so he agreed to therapy. He’d lost his job, so he started painting. He’d cried and had nightmares over his father, but he always let Craig hold him and do his best to make it better. Yet, despite it all, he’d still been taken away.

His demons had been bigger than he could face. They’d been stronger than he could control.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do enough,” Craig finally choked out before slamming his hand against his mouth. It was all he could offer. He wished he’d been there sooner. He wished he could have kept him safe.

He wished he was still alive.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, but when Kenny gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, he knew it was time to go. He slowly peeled himself up off the ground, wiping away the remainder of tears. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the visit had soothed some of his anxiety.

“You ready to go?” Kenny asked softly, helping dust off his suit. “We’ll be late if we don’t hit the road again.”

“Yeah,” he said, unable to help giving a small smile through his last few tears. He blew a small kiss towards the gravestone, letting out an anxious laugh. “I’ll be back soon, honey,” he assured, letting Kenny take his arm and lead him back down the hill.

“Next time we’ll be prepared and bring some flowers,” Marjorine said, carefully taking his other arm. “We’ll bring lots and lots of ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Craig agreed, leaning his head just enough to the side to tap her shoulder in appreciation. All three climbed back into the truck, watching the church and the graveyard disappeared through the rearview mirror. It took no time to get back to the freeway, speeding along towards Denver and the inevitable wedding ceremony. Most of the ride was in relative silence other than the sound of the radio and the car’s heater. It wasn’t long until Craig need to open his GPS, Kenny following the last directions to the location.

The parking lot of the church was already relatively full as they pulled in.

“Dammit,” Kenny muttered, quickly hopping out, “I think we’re just on time.” He took Marjorine by the hand before they hurried inside, the three finding a seat together near the back of the full church.

Craig could help but look around, surprised by how many familiar faces he could see. Clyde and Jimmy sat together near the front with Token and Nichole’s parents. Kyle and Bebe were sitting just behind them, a few of the other girls in the same row. Across the room sat Wendy and Stan Marsh, passing a fussy baby back and forth between them.

Craig couldn’t help but let out a small snort, giving Kenny a nudge. “Look at Marsh,” he said, looking back towards him. “I didn’t know he had a kid.”

“She’s about a year old, I think,” Kenny said, shrugging his shoulders. “You’d know if you’d have talked to him.”

“He lives out of state.”

“We have phones for a reason, Craig.”

They both laughed again, settling into their seats as the organ began to play the wedding march. Token stood at the far end of the aisle with the priest, looking intently towards the back of the building. The double doors suddenly opened, revealing his bride-to-be. She looked absolutely stunning in her dress, the layering in the front only accentuating just how pregnant she was. As she made her way up the aisle, Craig couldn’t help shedding a tear in bittersweet joy.

“I’m proud of you,” Kenny whispered, giving him a gentle nudge as the ceremony truly began.

Craig could only nod in response, biting his lip as daydreams of what could have been danced in his head.

 

* * *

 

_It had been a long time since Craig had gotten such an urgent phone call, and it terrified him._

_Things had been fine. Everything had been just fine. November had just been a setback, but things were getting better again, right? A million thoughts ran through his head as he sprinted up the stairs of the apartment building, nervously biting at his lip as he fished for his keys. There had been a noise complaint. Where was the noise? The hallway was dead silent._

_“I’m gonna kill those mother fuckers if it’s nothing,” he muttered, approaching the door to his home. “Getting back at me for something, I don’t know… homophobic pieces of shit…” He fumbled with the key as he unlocked the bottom lock, cursing when the top got stuck. Tweek had always liked that there were a couple of different ones; it made him feel safe. For now, though, it felt more like a bother than anything. With a hard shove, the door finally flew open, allowing Craig to step inside. “Honey?” he called, letting his bag drop to the floor. “Honey, is something--”_

_His voice caught in his throat as his eyes finally drifted to the living room. There was Tweek, lying flat on the floor, a small pool of blood seeping into the carpet. It took him a moment to register what he was looking at, but the second he realized, his eyes went wide with panic._

_“Fuck,” was all Craig could manage to get out as he sprinted across the floor, falling into his knees as he carefully rolled Tweek onto his back. He was barely breathing, the gash in his head still sticky with clotting blood. “Oh my god, oh no,” he whimpered, his fingers twitching as he just stared and stared. He didn’t know what to do, anxious panic numbing his brain and his body all at once. “Tweek…fucking…”_

_Call. Call someone!_

_Craig gave each pocket a quick pat before finding his phone, dialing 911 faster than he’d ever called in his life. It took no time for him to explain the situation and give their address, his free arm holding Tweek close to his chest as he waited. It didn’t take long for them to arrive and pull him onto a gurney, getting him down the stairs and out to a waiting ambulance. Craig had just followed silently behind, unsure what else to do as the EMTs began to work. Everything was moving in slow motion as he climbed into the back of the truck with them, sitting on the small bench as they began to speed down the road._

_“Did you just find him like this?” one of them asked, glancing briefly at Craig as he attempted to hook Tweek to a monitor. Craig wasn’t sure what the other one was doing._

_“Yeah,” he muttered, barely able to breathe as he watched. There was a sudden string of beeping as the monitor sprung to life, Tweek’s irregular heartbeat displayed for all to see. “I just…came home.”_

_The EMT nodded, moving back to his work. “Does he have any history of medical conditions? Epilepsy?”_

_Craig’s voice caught again, wishing he didn’t have to say it. “Drug addiction,” he choked out, pressing a fist against his mouth as it hit him. “Please, please no,” he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He hoped it wasn’t true._

_The monitor let out an odd sound, the screen going blank._

_“We’re losing him,” the other EMT shouted, grabbing for some device as the other worked to get his shirt off. Craig didn’t dare look, eyes glued on the floor as he heard the static zap. The monitor beeped steadily for a few more seconds before flatlining again._

_“One more,” the other said before turning back to Craig. “Sir…”_

_Craig glanced up, face void of emotion._

_Zap. Another quick beep, but it was rapidly slowing._

_“Sir, I don’t think--”_

_Craig didn’t hear the end of his sentence, standing up despite the rapid motion of the moving truck and making his way towards the gurney. The EMTs didn’t move to stop him as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around Tweek and holding him close._

_If he was going to lose him, he wanted him to go out the way he had desperately wanted him to live; feeling safe and loved._

_The tears didn’t start until he felt him go completely still, the monitor droning out a long, singular beep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for any tears


	11. Chapter 11

Craig was thankful for the shade of the large tree, fanning himself with a napkin in the warm August heat. Clyde’s head was against his lap, body sprawled across the picnic blanket. “Get off, it’s too warm for that,” he hissed, bouncing his knee to try and shake him. “I’m serious!”

“Clyde, be nice,” Marjorine laughed, shifting a bit closer to pat at his head. The engagement ring on her hand sparkled in the sunlight; Craig had known it wouldn’t take long for Kenny to pop the question after they’d secured a place together just outside of South Park. It had been almost a month since she’d started hormone therapy, and she was thriving. Her red jumper reminded Craig of Bebe’s.

“Fine, fine,” Clyde finally sighed, rolling over enough to sit back up. Kenny threw a balled up napkin at his face, resorting in Clyde tossing back a plastic fork.

“Boys,” Nichole scolded playfully, bouncing an infant on her lap. Michael Elliot Black had been born just weeks before, dressed in the spaceship onesie from the baby shower. Craig had made it to the hospital just in time to be the second person (besides his parents) to hold him. Clyde, of course, had beaten him to that honor.

 “Is everyone finished eating?” Craig asked, looking over the empty plates. “This cake isn’t gonna stay cold forever.”

“Cake?” Clyde practically shouted, his attention grabbed.

Tricia and Karen giggled as they played with Marjorine’s hair, attempting to braid her shoulder length grow-out.

Craig couldn’t help letting out a snort in amusement, reaching for the ice box behind him. Inside was a poorly frosted box-cake, _‘Happy Birthday Tweek’_ written in green, sloppy lettering. “It’s not as fancy as he would have done,” he admitted, setting it on the center of the blanket, “but it’ll taste good.”

“Aww, it’s cute,” Nichole cooed, passing Michael to Token. “Really, Craig, I’m sure he would have loved it.”

Craig grinned before diving in, cutting up a piece for everyone and passing them around the blanket.

“Not half bad,” Kenny commented, digging in with the fork that Clyde had so kindly thrown at him. “Tweek’s were better, though.”

Craig shook his head, giving a sly glance. “Thanks, asshole,” he muttered. Despite his teasing, he couldn’t help but crack another smile. He was proud of how far Kenny had come in the recent months; as far as Craig knew, he had quit drinking and was weaning himself off his cigarettes. It wasn’t easy, but he’d promised he’d do better for his fiancé. “You’re right though, nothing can beat Tweek’s cakes.”

“It tastes just fine,” Marjorine assured him, leaning a bit closer to Kenny. She was careful to keep her head up for the girls as they finished their work. “I like lemon cake.”

“It was Tweek’s favorite,” Craig explained, finishing off the last of his plate. He lifted his face as a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the tree, thankful for the relief.

“God, that feels great,” Tricia muttered, doing the same.

“It’s never been _this_ warm so late in the year,” Clyde complained, flopping against the blanket again. He earned himself a well-deserved smack in the shin from Token when his stretched legs bumped against his side.

Craig was still staring up into the trees. “I like to think he sent it,” he sighed, somewhat amused by the thought. His sunshine had always liked it best when it was warm, as ironic it was for them to live in South Park. The weather was perfectly appropriate.

Nichole was already gathering up empty plates, tucking them back into the coolers to deal with later. “Clyde, can you take Michael? Me and Token will get these back into the car.”

Clyde didn’t even hesitate, shooting upright faster than Craig had ever seen him move. “Come to uncle,” he cooed, carefully taking the infant into his arms as if he was his own. Craig couldn’t help reaching for one of his tiny hands, watching with amazement as the baby gripped his finger tightly.

“If we’re ready to head up, me and Marj will go grab the flowers from the truck,” Kenny said, struggling up to his feet. Nichole and Token were already carrying the two coolers back towards the church parking lot.

“Yeah, I think so,” Craig said, still distracted by the baby. Part of him wasn’t ready to wrap up quite yet, but they’d all come down to the church for more than just a picnic. Kenny and Marjorine were already walking away, Karen and Tricia trailing behind them.

Clyde gave Michael a gentle bounce, leaning in closer to Craig. “He’s so cute,” he whispered, watching as large, brown eyes fluttered open. “Still a pain in the ass at night when he keeps all of us up… but really, really cute.”

Craig let out a snort, leaning in a bit more until he was sure he was in the infant’s field of view. “Good job, Mikey,” he said bluntly, as if he were talking to a fully grown adult, “every time you annoy Clyde I promise I’ll do something nice for you when you’re big enough to appreciate it.”

“Dick,” Clyde hissed, bumping Craig with his shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He kissed the baby on his head before looking up, watching the other part of their group come walking back with armfuls of sunflowers.

“I’ll trade you,” Nichole teased, holding out a few flowers to Clyde. There was a careful exchange as he passed her son back, everyone with at least a flower or two in hand. “You ready Craig?”

Craig held his flower close to his chest for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Yeah,” he finally said, stepping forward to lead the way along the trail. He’d traveled up the hill many times alone, but this was the first time he’d done it in such large company. Sure, the funeral had hosted many more people, but this felt much more meaningful.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered, approaching the familiar headstone. The grass had grown properly over the dirt now, as if it had never been disrupted in the first place. The rest of the group joined him in a semi-circle, Craig right in the center. “You would have been twenty-two today.”

“We could have all legally gone out for drinks,” Kenny commented, making Craig laugh. Marjorine only elbowed him, whispering a soft reminder about what he’d been working on.  “Okay, maybe we’d just snap a few more pictures instead.”

“He could have held Michael,” Nichole added sadly, cradling the baby close to her chest.

“There’s a lot he could have done,” Craig admitted. There was a moment of silence before Clyde stepped forward, setting down the first flower. Everyone else followed immediately after, laying them one by one until the entirety of the grave was covered. Craig could imagine Tweek laying on it, like a bed of sunshine.

“Happy birthday, Tweek,” Marjorine whispered, prompting a scattered echo from everyone else.

Craig, like the funeral, set down the last flower.

With perfect timing Michael began to fuss, kicking his tiny feet despite Nichole’s attempts to soothe him. “Jeez, I’m sorry… I’m gonna take him back to the car,” she said softly, stepping aside. “We should probably give Craig a moment, anyway.” The others silently agreed, following her back down the hill until just two remained.

Craig just stared at the headstone, biting at his lip. “You don’t have to stay up here,” he said quietly, glancing back towards Clyde. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to linger; if anything, he’d thought his friend would have burst into tears by now.

“I know,” Clyde said, shifting a bit closer. His hands were pressed firmly together, hiding something. “I just…I dunno.”

There was another pause as they continued to stare.

“I have something for you,” he finally admitted, opening his fingers. There in his palm sat a piece of paper, folded into fourths. “I wrote it a few months ago for really no reason, but I really didn’t know what to do with it. I just thought that maybe now would be an appropriate time to give it to you—I mean, it’s just a haiku so it’s short, but… ya know.”

Craig’s attention was pulled from the headstone, staring in bewilderment as Clyde passed the paper into his hands. “What?”

The only response he got was Clyde patting him on the shoulder and turning away, walking back down the hill towards where Nichole and Token were waiting for him.

Craig was finally alone.

“Honey,” he said softly, gaze drifting back to the grave in front of him. He made sure not to crumple the paper as he knelt down against the bed of sunflowers. Everything was stagnant besides the breeze ruffling his hair. He couldn’t help giving a small laugh in anxiety before leaning forward just enough to press his forehead to the headstone. “It feels like it’s been forever since you were here.”

For the first time since the funeral, Craig did not shed a single tear as he sat with his boyfriend. “It’s still hard,” he admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s still hard every day without you. I still wish things were different. Sometimes I start to wonder what would have happened if maybe I’d stayed home that day, or we’d really moved out of South Park, or if we’d gone to a different doctor or…you know. I think about what it would be like if you were here. Things like that. I think you’d get along with Marjorine really well. I think you’d like baby Michael.”

He loved him. He missed him.

And that was okay.

With a deep breath, Craig finally dared to unfold the paper in his hands, silently reading over the three short lines scrawled in blue pen. The sun was blazing overhead, but it had left him with a totally different feeling of warmth in his chest. Just like he had before Token and Nichole’s wedding, he lay down against the sunflowers.

Things felt okay. Maybe things would be okay.

 A smile played across his lips as he recited the poem out loud, one hand pressing firmly against the soil.

 

_Though you have wandered_

_Your soul is my requiem_

_My love, evermore_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading ;u;
> 
> For your consideration, a playlist for the story:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9vQXkr14K8&t=0s&index=1&list=PLH1vOWA_5i0RD3pcoh8b1nzaOIgeCNX1r


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